Moby has amazed us repeatedly at his tolerance for young children. He doesn't run away at their approach, tolerating them, even unto being touched, until it gets more than he's up for, then he gets out of reach, and only after does he find it necessary to simply leave the area. We don't know when he got used to the idea of children, but it seems connected to his acceptance of anyone we allow inside. "Oh, friends of yours, then they are mine as well, conditionally."
He has approached maintenance guys, who have played with him. The delivery man for the Chinese food, who has become familiar, has "spsppst"'d at him, so last night, I picked Moby up to meet and greet. Although not in a mood to be held, he happily let himself be petted for a moment, the delivery guy, in a bliss of feline adoration, got to say hellooo. He has a "yellow" cat at home. Some people just have a soft spot for our furry overlords.
Our sitter mentioned that he got more affectionate over the four days we were gone. He is not the most overtly demonstrative cat, but he's perfect for us. As we are perfect for each other. Not actual perfection, but the relative sort. And he likes our friends.
When we had our reception, seven years after the wedding, our friends joined us. And during the evening, the staff approached both D and I to make a point of telling us how lovely our friends were, repeatedly. Owner and waiters both. We knew this, but it's always good to have one's experiences confirmed.
From whence doth this come? We mirror each other, and strive to deserve such people in our lives. Not sure we do, but we are grateful, nevertheless.
4 comments:
I know some cats who will vanish at the hint of someone new appearing, yet others who seem utterly unconcerned — even some who seem to enjoy the extra attention. Guess we resemble cats more than we sometimes realise.
We really are all alike then. Not overly social, but welcoming, all three of us.
(o)
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