Nearly every day since we moved the books cases into my office, he's taken 2-3 naps up there, curled up where he can't be seen.
Every day, too, when I open a can of cat food at 11 a.m., he gets up, stretches, and then stares at the cat tree placed right next to his giant blue bed. He wants to jump down, and a year ago he probably would have. But now he thinks about it, realizes it's not a good idea, and takes the long was across the four tall bookcases to the shorter, staircase-stagger cases in front of the window, he walks across my printer and then my desk, and waits there for me to come pick him up and carry him to his food.
He can make the jump from the desk to the floor easily still, but why? He knows I'll come get him. It's one of the few times I can pick him up and not worry that he'll bite me. I carry him a few feet into the kitchen, and take the opportunity to drop a few kisses on the top of his head, because that's the only way I'll ever really be able to.
Tonight when it was snack time, he waited on the desk, and I came to get him as usual, and three steps into the kitchen he pressed his head against my face.
Don't forget the kisses.