Why can't I quit you, Arlo?

I think I've mentioned our tuxedo cat, Arlo, a time or two. He's the one that likes me. (Willis, the other one, is a crabby old curmudgeon who wishes I'd move to the moon.) The trouble with Arlo is that he likes me too much. He is always in my face, licking it (or my ears), giving me little love bites, and generally being a pain. Sometimes he just lies across my face and zones out, which does not enhance my nap-taking experience. Here's an example of his pushy behavior:

As you can imagine, sometimes it's hard for me to breathe.

Then, just when I'm about to get up and "mistake" him for one of my stuffed animals and shake him until his eyeballs rattle, he'll decide to at least uncover my mouth. It's like he knows just how far he can push me.

I think he also knows that I like him, too--though I'll be darned if I know why I like him. Maybe you've got a friend or relative like that.