Besides tolerating your presence...

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...what is/are the worst thing/things your cat has to
put up with?
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Got Greycat as a temporary catsitting "job". Her owner
was accepted into a Masters program in Ireland... and
the last I heard of her, she was "stuck" there (poor
darlin'). Greycat and I enjoyed 8 years together.
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One of her housemates used to torment Greycat AND blow
pot smoke in her face to get her high. She COULD not be
petted (every once in a great while, I was able to sneak
up and gently stroke her a few times before she realized
what was going on and DARTED off) and she would not
come near anyone.
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Knowing her background of abuse, I appreciated all her
reluctance (though I hated it) and didn't ever push her
(beyond that occasional stroking). I had had her for
nearly five years when, while I was watching TV, she
got up on the couch and leaned against my upper thigh
and watched TV with me.
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I was able to pet her. She never became a lapkitty, but
it was a wonderful display of trust and affection that
became a frequent habit.
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NoName, I gently tickled/annoyed mercilessly and often.
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What does/do your cat/cats have to put up with?
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"Don't blow your toke in the cat's face. Animals are stoned already man, they don't need that shit."

Ah the old days, MFM, you just reminded me of 'em.

But yes, I have a tale. Long ago I had a cat, sweet little black and white kitten name of Penguin. I was living in a shared house, some of whose occupants were quite tall. Most people are taller than me, but these guys were really tall. It was an old house and the kitchen sink was located under a kind of stone mantelpiece in an alcove where once there had been a wood stove. When the tall guys did the washing-up they had a hard time not bumping their heads on the mantelpiece.

Some people might have just left the washing-up to the short people, but not these guys. They devised a clever solution. They cut a hole in the floor, put a false bottom in it a foot or so down (but no sides) and a trapdoor on top. Then when they worked at the sink they would open the trapdoor and stand in the hole in ease and comfort and no danger of concussion.

Well, one day Penguin disappeared. The household was distraught. We looked high, we looked low, no Penguin. Days passed, three of 'em. If any washing-up was done it must have been by the short people, or maybe nobody ate at home, or maybe we'd been overcome with idleness or sorrow over the cat, because it wasn't till the third day that certain sounds were heard and the trapdoor was raised. And there, you guessed it, was a sweet little black and white kittie. Our Penguin, surprisingly unperturbed by her misadventure, but I put that down to the lack of sides in the hole. I think she'd enjoyed roaming the underbelly of the house and possibly feasted on mice.

Not long after that, sadly, she got run over by a truck. The wake we had for her gave me the worst hangover of my life.

I use a funny voice and I think it sometimes annoys them.

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...NoName used to look at me much like the cat in the OP.
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:rofl:

Daniel looks at me like my ex-wife used to when I was being annoying and silly..lol