I think “my” cat had to have been a pop star in another life.
Notty came as as part of the feline pair from Cleveland with Kevin. He never really came out of his shell from the abusive home and abandonment that Kevin rescued him from. (He was continually beat and eventually dropped in a back alley).
Well – that is until he met me… At that time a card carrying cat hater.
I’ll never forget that first week after Kevin moved in… I was working and had dug through one of my desk’s side drawers for something, leaving it open. An hour must have passed before I looked down to notice Nottingham curled up in the drawer staring at me… and… “cooing”. He’d only ever come out of hiding, ever, to eat and use the box.
They say cats “choose” their owners… I believe it.
Of course every time he hawks a hairball up or has another fit of bulimia, (Karen Carpenter had NOTHING on this little beinge-purge machine). “Kevin! Your cat threw up on the carpet again!”
Anyway… I swear the spine on that cat is one big ham bone.
As soon as anything “pretty” gets put out. (In this case, the flowers I bought Kevin for our anniversary), – he’s sure to be there.
If I get the camera out – I swear he goes from “I’m being cute, look at me” to “I’m beautiful god damn it – take my photo”.
Pet photographer’s dream I’d assume.
Also would probably make good filler for someone who kept a blog and wanted to lace it with the sort of “AWWWWWWWWWWWWW how cute” comment-fodder you’d come to expect from some wanna-be-aww-shucks, I’m trying to find beauty in every day, attention seeking, kinda blog-dork.