The royal clowder lined up at his feet as the man made his way into his office. “What?” he asked, stopping, looking down at them, a cup of coffee in hand.
The cats began singing.
“We three cats have come to bug you.
“The weather is bad and we’ve nothing to do.
“We’re bored and restless and don’t like our food.
“Come and pet us or we’ll start biting you.”
The man rolled his eyes. “That old chestnut.” Then he threw a ball across the room to distract, darted into his office when they dashed away, closed the door, and put on noise-canceling headphones.
Sometimes, that was the only way he could get something done.