Cat thought balloon: "I think I'll bask here awhile. That's why this chair is here anyway, right?"
This cat was a rescue kitten, found in a dumpster with two siblings and her mother. Named Amanda--now just called Mana thanks to young granddaughter who couldn't say Amanda--she was the only one of the 4 cats to survive.
Bottle fed, one would think that Mana would have an especially close and loving bond with humans. One would be quite wrong.
Mana takes feline independence to new highs, and will generally only let you pet her about 3 strokes before she fake bites you, followed by a real bite on stroke number 4. Yet in the evenings she will hop up onto my lap--provided I respect the 3 stroke limit--and lay there for a long time, purring contentedly until she gets too warm or something and hops off.
My secret weapon: if I pick her up, often she will cry or hiss, but I quickly flip her onto her back with her head cradled in my left hand and with my right arm the main support under the length of her back, with my right hand fingers massaging her shoulder blades. It's like those alligator wranglers putting an alligator to sleep but stroking it a certain way. She will purr blissfully and remain there for minutes, until my arms get tired. Then I put her down.
Oh, and when she was little, if you annoyed her she would bite the closest part of your body. I remember one time a dog chased her part way up a tree and I tried to calm her and lift her out of the tree. My face was closest to her so she bit me on the cheek.
I guess it's a sign of progress that she hasn't bitten me in the face lately. And I love her to death.
This sink is MINE.
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