When my grandfather died at this home a few years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to inherit this lovely cat. He is incredible kind. Anïas, Illïus and Xavier have all taken turns in dressing him up; carry him around like a Raggedy Anne doll; stuff him in small places; cuddle him to death; drag him into several different beds at night; squeeze him and poke him; deathgrip him with showers of love; rough play and fast moves. This cat has been put through all possible scenarios of family hood. He really deserves trophies.
My husband Jeffrey was not at all a cat person before Tusse pawed his way into our lives, winning us over with each wag of his whisker:
• When one is in the bathroom, he is in his litterbox.
• When one open the fridge, he sits below asking for stuff.
• When one open a cabinet, he wants dry food.
• When one read, he sits on the ‘read’.
• When one pulls out the laptop, he sits on it.
• When one turns the computer on, he lays on the keyboard.
• When one goes to bed, he is already there.
Enough said I think. The only thing he does not control is the lock on the outer door.
Illïus and Tusse sleeping. Illïus wasn't tired and just wanted to sit. Well that worked out well don't you think.
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