He opens cupboard doors, plays fetch (course all our catpeople play fetch), has a (closet) love affair with a duster and is the self-appointed guest greeter.  

If that's not charm enough – every morning he throws himself on my pillow in just the right way as to cut off my breath signalling that it's time for treats.  (Course I can be a lazy slave.) Too often, he is forced to resort to tapping me on the face or stretching all over me with cuteness galore.