A young, yellow-eyed calico with a feathery plume of a tail looked at me. I looked at her. "Hey," I said as I headed for the sofa, "Get over here!" She chirped and jumped into my lap, purred, and settled down. My husband was watching. It appeared that I'd been chosen by our next cat. She had short, silky fur that was a crazy quilt of gorgeous dark red and black patches. I've never felt such irresistibly soft, fine fur on a shorthair. I always prefer longhaired cats, but this one was unusual.
Then, just as quickly, she jumped off me and ignored me for about a half-hour. I watched her parade around, tear the hell out of a scratching pad, and wrestle energetically with a black cat. Finally, as I was petting her one last time before we left, she looked me right in the eye and bit my hand.
Okay, sister, I get it. I'm not worthy. Still, I hope you don't end up in a household with three toddlers and six dogs. The hunt goes on.