Furry Murray has been living with us for just about five weeks now and has ensconced himself firmly into all of our hearts. He’s a complete snugglebunny and absolutely loves to cuddle up with me when he is not kicking Harry’s ass or playing fetch with twist-ties. I’ve never had a cat who was so willing to let people pick him up and hold him; he goes absolutely boneless, but not in that passive-aggressive “I don’t want you to touch me” way that some cats have. Charlotte manhandles (kidhandles?) him like he was Nappy the Teddy Bear, and he just lets her do it, although he won’t seek her out for a cuddle on his own. He’s so good about being handled and has such a laid-back temperament that I’ve half-seriously given thought to making him a show cat. Most cat shows have a division for housecats, and that demeanor is exactly the sort that a cat needs to put up with being handled by unfamiliar judges, plus he’s a very pretty cat. He’s almost old enough to show as a kitten (that link says 4.5-5 months). I just don’t know if *I’m* up to the commitment.
Every once in a while, through no fault of his own, Murray will do something that reminds me of Maynard. Though Murray’s very fluffy, he’s about the same shade of gray as Maynard, and it’s easy to see him quickly and think it’s Maynard. Last night, as I was sitting in the rocking chair in Charlotte’s bedroom to read to her, he got up in my lap for some attention. Maynard, who wasn’t a lap cat by any stretch of the imagination, nevertheless always got up in my lap every night when it was story time. He never sat; he would stand on my legs while I petted him until he’d had his fill. Murray, as usual, snuggled right into the crook of my arm and purred with his big motor until he was distracted by something shiny.
By the same token, nobody misses the barf. The video at the top is thus lovingly but relievedly dedicated to Bumble and the sincerest hope that his successor will not develop the same habit.
