Sixto is a total lap cat. Dupree was not until he got old, but this one is the kind of cat that old ladies like me really dote on. He has a system, suddenly appearing from out of thin air. He jumps onto my thighs and starts kneading his pointy paws into my flesh. This does not feel good. Then, suddenly he flops down along the length of them, rolls over on his back and peers through his front paws at me, knowing that I shall tell him how adorable he looks. Than he turns onto his side and purrs himself soundly to sleep.
I am now a prisoner of this cat on my lap. If anyone else is around, I can avoid any task that requires locomotion on my part.
"The cat is in my lap. Could you turn off the kettle and fix my tea?"
"The cat is on my lap. Could you turn the radio down?"
"The cat is in my lap. Could you answer the door?"
"The cat is on my lap. I was planning to get dinner started about now but, well...."
"The cat is on my lap. Could you see why the smoke alarm is screeching?"
"The cat is on my lap. Could you find out why there's a police car in front of our house ? "
'"The cat is on my lap. Could you see if that noise in the basement is the escaped serial killer I heard about on the news?"
When the cat is on one's lap, life must go on any way it can without unsettling the sleeping feline or the lap he's on. It works for me.