How we ended up with our abnormally large black cat named Mr. Pumpkin is quite a long story, the details of which no one is probably interested. Suffice it to say that he is not a cuddly cat. He's not the kind of cat that wants human attention or affection. In fact, he's pretty much content if we leave him be, and just make sure he has water, food, and a clean cat box, and he appreciates it when we bring him a sprig of catnip from the plant outside.
He has never, not by choice, sat in any of our laps, and when he's held it's with a reluctant acquiescence - which is obvious by the look on his face.
That's not to say that he doesn't like attention. Unfortunately, his way of getting attention is unacceptable as it involves claws and fangs, and we aren't very keen on having either piercing our flesh.
Over the years, he's mellowed quite a bit. He knows if he grabs us, we'll grab him back and cuddle him and pet him and maybe even (egads!) kiss and nuzzle the nape of his neck - which puts our scent all over his lovely fur in a place he can't get rid of it very easily. Poor kitty!
Occasionally, though, he surprises us when he acts, seemingly, completely out of character. Like this morning, when I woke up and found him sleeping between my feet. It was an odd, very unexpected moment ... and one I appreciated completely, because it made me realize that, even with his, rather, cool demeanor, he knows he's a part of this family.
And one other thing. When we come home, after a long day out, the one who comes to the door to greet us is the cat ... not the dog.
I am thankful to the friends who gave us Mr. Pumpkin. He's become a part of our family, and we love him - in spite ... mabye even because of ... his quirkiness.
Come to think of it, perhaps it's that quirkiness that makes him fit so well in our family.