My parents have been out of the "cat business" for over a year after having variable amounts of cats ever since I was approximately 5. That was basically 20 years of having cats. Four different felines have taken up permanent residence there and have also subsequently gone. After the last one, my mom was pretty emphatic--no more cats! They puke, they make messes, they get in fights, etc. She wants freedom! She wants plants inside the house! She wants to not have to leave the garage door cracked! She wants to not have litter box duties anymore! Guess who just adopted a cat this week?
Apparently, the little bugger showed up about a week ago and immediately ingratiated himself with my parentals and my four-year old niece, of course, who spends many a day at their house. Not only did my mom immediately name it and let it into the house (two big mistakes if you declare yourself to be rid of cats), but my dad (the talks-big-about-how-he-doesn't-care-about-cats-and-doesn't-care-if-they-disappeared-forever guy) brought the cute little fluffball into the house that night when my mom wasn't around and not only fed him ("What? We can't just let him starve!!") but had already begged cat food and other sundry necessities like cat litter from his sister (who is very solidly, in fact waaay too solidly, in the cat business). So now, the little puffy kitten hath been given the moniker of "Buddy" (my mom was very adamant about this one; but then again, I can't really remember her ever having the chance to name one of our cuddly critters before) and has the finest in eating, sleeping and bathrooming accomodations. Buddy is probably 3-4 months old, really fluffy and has an old department store shirt box for a litter box. Throw in a couple of Lean Cuisine containers for food and water dishes, and his run of the garage for a bedroom, and you have about the happiest, purriest, squirtiest kitten ever.
Oh, but the point of this. My mom brings him inside the house when she's around so that he can gambol and cavort at his leisure. He's often clingy (especially to my ankle & ankle bracelet) and quite enjoys chasing his tail (sometimes behind the couch...quite the feat). Basically, he's just a cute little guy who thoroughly is enjoying his new life in all of his adorable kitten-ness.
(Sidenote--we just returned from spending the night at my parents house. Yesterday, we celebrated with my family and some friends at a luau-themed party to celebrate a cancer-free diagnosis for my niece (yay!). Today, her little brother was baptized, so more celebrating and family fun times. Everyone converged on my parents' house for lunch after church. My mom takes these events very seriously. For this event, she decided to decorate cupcakes to spell out my nephew's full name and had them oh so nicely arranged on a tray.)
After traipsing across the kitchen table to watch the bird feeders, Buddy was being feisty. Mom decided to take no chances and moved the aforementioned cupcakes to a safer spot--the kitchen island. (She's totally been out of the cat business if she thought that this was a safer spot. She has an entire, fully secure, finished basement at her disposal.) Mom was doing something. I was whipping up a really mediocre breakfast (to my credit, I was trying to remember a specific recipe without aid of the desired recipe). Buddy was...
...licking the cupcakes of course (quite slurpily).
Don't worry. The tainted cupcake was replaced with a freshly frosted one. Mom claims he licked the "C"; I still avoided the "O". Lesson(s) learned: teach any new cats some table manners and seriously, don't let a feisty little bugger loose around gooey cream cheese frosting. Highly irresistible by all.