Which means he's using the wee-wee pads in the bathroom (ugh) and going crazy from lack of exercise. I play with him for a few minutes, but then he loses interest. But once I start something, he bats me with his paddle-sized paws. Right now he's stretched out in the sun.
Oops...as soon as I wrote that, Rupert the cat drove him off the sunlit couch and took it over. Fletcher is now looking at me pathetically from the other side of the room.