This is my cat Boo Boo. I assume he is happy--although, since I cannot communicate with him--I may never really know. But since I like to sleep at night with a relatively clear conscience--I must assume he is.
After class today, I threw my backpack down haphazardly upon my bed as I usually do. Headphones discarded, "This Republic of Suffering" set aside for later and story notes hidden in the mess.
At some point after running around the house meowing, scratching at my feet, playing with his toys and knocking something over--he finally settled down, seemingly content, upon my discarded school items.
By this, I presume that Boo Boo has found his own happiness in the simple joy of touching as many of my things in one position as he can. Observe:
One paw on his BB-8 toy stick, his back pressed against said BB-8 dangle, one foot pressed against my backpack, another sprawled diagonally across my notebook, and his tail is carefully resting upon my headphones (I am just thankful he is not chewing on them). That is five individual points of contact. Conclusion: my cat loves me, and all my things, and likes to remind me of that. So I give him extra hugs, less yells and more snuggles. He may not care as much for the snuggles. But I need him.