The only girl cat I’ve ever had that came close to doing this was Rylla, and she was 10 when we got her. She wasn’t big on lap snuggling unless it was cold, but she did sleep with me. I don’t know how many times I woke up, verging on spontaneous combustion, with Rylla curled against my stomach and Eric against my back! I don’t know why she didn’t sleep with him; he’s a walking space heater.
Anyhoo, all three of my boy cats have been lap snugglers, and all of them felt free to jump in my lap if I was sitting, even for a minute. The only place it’s not authorized is the dinner table, and so far Ryan is the only one who’s tested that. He’s about three now, and while he’s technically not a kitten, he still has a lot of kitten in him. He’s smart, though, and has picked up enough words to make life a lot of fun. Because he’s a big boy (about 12 lbs–you can see he’s a lapful in the pictures), we nicknamed him Bubba. I can stand in the middle of the house and say, “Bubba! ‘Mere!” and if he’s not hiding from scary weather, he’ll usually come. The other night, Vicky and I were playing with him, and Alex, always the wisecracker, chimed in from the kitchen in a cheesy accent, “I am the Supreme Sultan Bubbamere!” Vicky and I cracked up, of course, and in less than a minute had dubbed the girls ‘Empress Chloemere’ and ‘Princess Diva Tessimere.’
I had no idea, when I got hornswaggled into bringing Rylla home, that cats were so much fun! I can say, though, that it’s hard to take a picture of a napping cat without disturbing him.