When J. Co and I first adopted Sugar from the SPCA, they told us that she wasn't the type of cat who would sit on the bed with you while you gently petted her. In fact, she was classified as a Level 4 (that was one of our nicknames for her) out of a Level 5 scale of aggression. Her bio on the front of her room at the SPCA read, "Sugar wants you to know she has a little spice", a sugar-coated way of saying that she was a sheisty animal. However, we were so won over by her forwardness, her adorable little cross-eyed green eyes and pink collar, that all she had to do was meow and we would start cooing over her like dopey new parents.
That first night we got her home, she was on my bed, and I went to pet her. After a few strokes, she suddenly grabbed my hand in a bear hug grip and began biting my fingers. Yup, the wicked little cat drew blood her first night in her new home.
She is still not keen on people petting her unless it's on her terms and when she wants to be pet, but like any loving father, I like to think she's getting better. And as much as she likes to be in the presence of people, she doesn't necessarily want to be picked up or pet.
Only now, I can say that she actually has gotten better.
Recently, when I've come home from work and am laying on the bed watching TV, she'll come right onto my lap, get comfortable, and sit there happily, gazing at me with her green drag queen eyes. It's such a touching display, I've been known to sit there for a half hour or more even if my butt begins to fall asleep. And it breaks my heart a little to have to get up and disrupt the rare and tender moment of affection from the most precious little mal-tempered feline in the west.
It's the little victories. Happy Hannukah!
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