How am I supposed to type with Sirius pestering me? Not only is he squeaking piteously like a cat who hasn't seen a morsel of food for... oh... half an hour; not only is he insisting that I use my right hand to stroke him over and over and over and over again from head to tip of tail; but if ever I desist for ten seconds, he starts sharpening his claws on my cane computer chair.
And now I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. I can't possibly find my way from the study to the kitchen, he complains. It's a distance of at least twenty steps.
I'm somewhat devoid of inspiration, anyway. Exhaustion has set in after a full day including an evening class followed by lots of marking.
All right, Sirius. I'm coming.