In our old house we had a frequent visitor, her name was Chubbs, she was the neighbour’s cat. At least that’s what we called her, but we found out one day that her actual name was Cassie.
Chubbs would come over, like most neighbourhood cats, for food and for pats. She would enter into our kitchen like she lived there, and after a brief catwalk (excuse the pun), she would literally flop on her side like a tipped cow, and wait for the pats. She was the fluffiest fat cat I had ever patted in my life.
After pats, she would munch on her cat biscuits (yes, we were buying Chubbs food!). She always moaned for more food, a second helping, and as hard as I tried to resist I failed every time. Plus she had a weird and unusual habit of ankle biting you until she got her way. We eventually moved house and unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to Chubbs.
If there is anything I learned from her, it was that life should be enjoyed and not taken so seriously. We only get one ride.
I now spend a considerable amount of time flopped on my side waiting for pats, and grazing on food. I don’t bite anybodies ankles though.