So, I like to listen to music while I work: mostly classic rock, nice and loud. And, if there's no one around to hear me, I sometimes sing along. But yesterday I got put in my place in no uncertain terms. Rather unusually for me, I had just started whistling (while listening to Part Two of "Layla"), when I noticed the cats' reaction. Rigby was, perhaps fortunately, off in another room, apparently out of range. Feanor, in the box beside the desk, was giving me a pained, incredulous look. But Hastur, atop the cat stand, got down and came across the desk top, where she pawed me with a concerned look, apparently thinking I was making some sort of distress call (this being from a cat that can't mew, merely purr, gurgle, and squeak). Note to self: no more whistling when somebody can hear me, and that 'somebody' now includes the cats.
In any case, it's not quite as bad as the time I was asleep and, I'm told, snoring (back in the bad old days before the low-carb diet) and woke up to find that Parker, a smart cat with very low tolerance for not getting things his own way, had walked up, reached out, and put a paw on my mouth. With one claw extended and gently hook on the lower lip, just to make sure I got the message.
Somedays, as when I take them for walks or provide Warm Laundry, I think the cats wholly approve of me. Other days, not so much.
76th World Science Fiction Convention
12 hours ago