If ever there was a cat with a split personality, it would be Seamus Harper MacKenzie III.
From the day Roy and the little man brought him home from a cow barn, he has been both a little angel and a little devil.
I give him a lot of slack since he was, literally, born in a barn. He has a wild and aggressive side that comes out when he is playing or if he decides that he wants to gnaw on your arm and dig his claws into your flesh. He will also stalk you from behind various pieces of furniture and wait for you to unsuspectingly walk by on your way to the bathroom, at which time he was launch himself at your legs and try to take a bite out of your ankle.
Other times, like right now, when the house is quiet and both kids are in bed, he will curl up on my feet in the recliner and sleep. He keeps my feet more toasty than putting them up by the wood burning stove and his exceptionally loud purr lets me know that he is happy where he is and not to disturb him by getting up for a sandwich.
He has grown so much since his trip here in the car on the little man's lap. Very small, very curious, very friendly, and very, very dirty. His first bath happened about 10 minutes after he came into the house and didn't end until about 3 sink refills later. He had more white fur on him than I originally thought!
He has his special quirks that are both maddening and endearing. He loves to climb into the refrigerator any time someone opens the door, he insists on coming into the bathroom with you and helping you with the toilet paper (much like my now-two-year old daughter) and he has a gross habit of sneezing violently and depositing, (forgive me if you happen to be eating something while reading this), green cat boogers on whatever surface he is near at the time of the sneeze.
You see, Seamus has some sort of chronic upper respiratory issue that really does not have a cure. I attribute it to his being born a barn cat and it being passed on from his parents or siblings.
This will be his first Christmas, I am sure. I think he may have been born early enough this past spring to see the last of the snow, so he must know what it is and how cold it is to walk on. But this does not stop him form doing the thing that is the most maddening of all his traits. That cat will do anything to try and get outside. Even if it is below zero, the snow is falling and the wind is blowing - and even if I have one armload of groceries and another armload of disagreeable toddler, he will feel no concern for me or the weather, and make a daring lunge for the opened door.
In the summer, I would chase him down and bring him back inside, yet again explaining to him about the dangers of cars, dogs, ticks and coyotes. All three of my cats are indoor cats who can enjoy fresh air from the cat pen I have outside during nice weather. He just doesn't seem to know how good he has it.....
One escape last summer lead to him being lost for over an hour and we were all out looking for him. We wandered around the property calling for him and we scanned tree branches and shed roofs. He was eventually found by Roy playing in the neighbors very fragrant pine trees and the only thing that made me not so angry with him for scaring me was that he smelled pine fresh for days afterwards.
He is still curled up on my feet in the chair, probably knowing exactly what I am saying about him since I know that cats have that 6th sense people are always talking about. It is late and it is time for me to get to bed, but I know that as soon as close the laptop, he will glare at me and just about dare me to lower the foot rest. I know that my ankle and probably my wrist and arm, will get a good scratching-up before I make it to the stairs.