There are some days when I simply can't ignore the fact that my cat has a personality. I'm not talking personality the way "everybody" has a personality. I'm talking big personality. If Sophie could talk, I'm sure she would have said, "Go big or go home," before anybody else even thought of it.
My niece found Sophie in the woods about a week after I'd had to put my big black cat Basil to sleep. I was mourning, and the last thing I wanted was a kitten. An abandoned kitten no less. A scruffy, flea-covered kitten with a virus. But she looked at me with big yellow eyes in a tiny black and gold face and I was hooked.
Not even as big as my husband's hand, Sophie managed to get out of her first bath almost dry, while my husband was soaking wet. Though she lives inside, she's not a house cat. She believes squirrels and chipmunks were invented for her pleasure and took great pride in chasing hundreds of each into my kitchen over the years. She'd get mad when I'd chase them back outside with a broom.
She's proud of her hunting skills and her still girlish figure, and while Fat Fluff was alive she'd give him looks as if to say, Get off your butt and chase something, Lazybones!
Now that she's our only cat and she's getting up in age, she's adopted a Princess Grace mentality. Her water bowl has to be in a certain place, filled to the exact point she wants it and if it's even slightly out of place, we get...The Look. She stands by the spot the bowl should be and waits for us to move it to her.
She also watches us as we play with cat toys. I'm not sure how she programmed us to do that, but we all look pretty silly batting that fake bird around.
I wish I had half her management skills!
Here's the link to her facebook page...