Why Do Cats Purr?

Cartoon below ent to me by daughter, who simply used the SUBJECT line "Mana."

Mana (short for Amanda, due to the 3-year-old granddaughter who could not pronounce the full name) came to us via daughter, who then worked at the Humane Society. 

Mana was allegedly a foster cat, but as many of us come to find out, "foster" actually means "adopt."

She was found in a garbage bag with 2 live siblings and a dead mother, and was so young as to need to be bottle-fed.  One would think that a bottle-fed kitten would grow up to be kind and gentle and love human touch...and one would be wrong. 

Mana is, in fact, the kitty from hell (I once remarked that she had not bitten me in the face for a long time).  That said, I love her, and she loves us as much as she can.  Mana helped me get through a rough patch when a loved one was desperately, life-threateningly lost.

 

[image credit here]

 

 

I've previously posted about Mana here.  So here is a shot of the real Mana, looking none too formidable:

 

 

 

 

 

Amanda, Taking Cat Independence to New Levels

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.