We've grown accustomed to our cats asking -- "insisting" is closer to the truth -- that we stop what we're doing to hold and pet them. Since it's a honor when a cat trusts you so much, I don't mind setting aside what I'm writing, drawing, or whatever for later. (Nearly always, anyway.) Kelly has his own catly terms of endearment that demand privacy. If he and I are alone together, he'll sprawl across my lap, stretched to his full length, but if he hears Pat or one of the other Good Cats approaching, he stops purring and jumps down, as though he were afraid to let them see his softer side. Nicky has no such fear. Pat tells me there have been times when she has avoided sitting down to eat or read because she was short of time, and she knew the black cat would jump in her lap and make himself comfortable for an extended session. Similarly, when Lizzie wants love, she heads straight for Pat, whether her human is reading, on the computer, or trying to clean house. Caitie-Belle is less of a lap cat than the others, but she still craves love, affection, and especially, attention. There was a time when, while Pat was making breakfast, Caitie-Belle would go into the garage, hop on top of a car and begin to meow. Pat knew that she was expected to go out there and pet the Calico Diva until breakfast was ready. At our previous house, Pat was in the basement one day with Caitie-Belle, trying to interest her in playing with a string toy hanging from the ceiling. The little cat soon tired of the toy, but she began to follow people down to the basement and beg to be picked up and held. Since that was the only place she would let us hold her at the time, we suspect she just enjoyed the view from her human cat tree. |