Loki doesn’t believe in the word ‘no.’  To him, saying it sounds more like a grunt or some other meaningless, incomprehensible noise made by silly humans.  This apparent lack of regard for others usually means an interruption by him cannot be ignored.  He’s not just going to go away, but instead he’ll continue screaming at me like a harpy while manhandling me with his paws.  This was just such a case.

I knelt on the floor to get a few pictures of The Kids as they lounged about in the sunshine beaming through the windows.  The moment I was on the floor, however, Loki immediately came over, stood with his front paws resting on my legs, and proceeded to pester me for attention—replete with shrill meowing and the occasional scratch as he pawed at me incessantly.  Trying to take pictures of anything else became impossible, and even taking pictures of him turned into an exercise in futility because I couldn’t keep him at bay with just one hand.

The last photo was when I gave up.  I had switched the camera to my other hand in an attempt to capture a closer shot of him, but he snagged the strap and yanked the camera just as I pressed the button.  At that point, all I could do was turn the camera off, set it aside, and give in to the demands being made of me.