Implications of a New Name: The Life of a Cat

I've lived with six different cats over the course of my life, and I have come to a remarkable conclusion.

According to a cat, the most important, all-consuming purpose in its life is to get as comfy as possible.

There are other priorities, of course. The top five, in decreasing order, are as follows:

Eat.

Define the word "spooked" by fluffing the tail and/or springing 3 ft up in the air upon being surprised.

Explore crevices.

Play with and examine squishy and/or crinkly and/or fluffy and/or rapidly moving things.

Get comfy.

Take Pdub (aka, Prince Winston, aka, PW, aka P-Diddly, aka, Sir Dubicus McPiedemont (the last was dubbed by my brother, Hunter)). When I bring the towels in from the dryer, it does not matter what activity he is involved in at the moment. He sees an opportunity to get comfy in the warm folds of the freshly dried towels, and he snuggles in. Before I have time to stop him. Before I notice.

He'll get curious about things if I make them worthy of curiousity...like wiggling a string or rubbing my fingers together quickly.

But he resists the temptation to go play and examine because he is as comfy as he will ever be all week, until the next time I bring the towels in from the dryer.

The difference between the last two pictures is in his eyes. In the former, his eyes are active, demonstrating that he's thinking about whatever I am doing that is making him curious and tempted to get up and explore. In the latter, his eyes are lethargic-like...he's settling in for the long haul of a good snuggle and nap.

Until I bothered him again by poking the camera lens into his face. I'm sorry, Pwege. (Yes, another nickname.)

When he became assured that I would no longer try to entice him out of the warmth of his towels, he stretched and maneuvered to an even comfier position.