She Little, But She Mean

Meadow is usually what I refer to as a people-cat. She's very eager to please and while Furio is busy hiding under the bed, she will be out in the living room trying to get the guests to pay attention to her. Not necessarily touch her - at least not right away. But she wants to be the center of attention at all times.

She is almost what I would call an anti-cat. She likes to be held most of the time and is pretty much content to be in whatever room you want her to be in. Furio, like most cats, wants to be on the other side of every closed door and in the center of whatever project you're working on. Meadow almost never cries at any door and she only occasionally demands attention when you're working on something else. Friendly and affectionate and low-maintenance. Like I said - she's the anti-cat. A dog trapped in a cat's body. Most of the time.

When my dad visits, however, she undergoes some sort of transformation from sweet, little Meadow cat into raging psycho. We can only assume this is because my dad smells like dachshunds, because he's never hurt her or even spoken to her in a harsh manner. She growls and hisses the entire time he's here - whether he's in the room or merely somewhere in the apartment. She's positively horrid.

I'll never understand cats, I guess.