The cats in my household have been in two distinct generations,
with a gap of a few years between the lots. The first generation
was the more typical, in which lazy, contented cats occasionally
went wild. The present generation are wild, wild animals who occasionally
Pumpkin bids good night.
Of course, the first generation had the benefit of Pumpkin, who from the age of six months ruled the household and who was everything one might hope to find in a pet. Every night she would give me a special "good night" by sitting on my chest and staring at me and giving a pet or two on my chin while I stared at her. After several minutes, she was content to go sleep on the foot of the bed.
The second generation began one day when Sue decided that the presently catless household should be catified. Instant gratification necessitated going to a pet shop, in which Muffin was found; however, rather than the happy little friend that we hoped for, the kitten Muffin disappeared in the dark recesses of the bedroom and no amount of coaxing could bring her out.
While discussing this new problem of how to get the kitten to act like a kitten, Sue and I saw a small, dark shape zoom into sight, smack a small ball that we were trying to lure her with earlier, and then disappear again. The trick to seeing Muffin was to play with her. When playing, Muffin is happy; otherwise, she's the shyest animal in the world.
Cloudberry came next, for Muffin needed a friend. And for once in my life, a hunch worked, and Cloud and Muffin became the close friends. Cloudberry, though, is not content to be known only as Muffin's pal, and persists in demonstrating what it means to have a high energy level, whether standing up or diving into her favorite treat.
It was during this period that I made a remark that resulted in Sue's nine-month project of bringing Moonshadow indoors, the cat with the continuous purr, meaning that there is some kind of master balance somewhere.