It's strange that of our two cats Rey had a hard beginning to her life, alone and hungry in the woods, yet she turned out to be personable and laid back. By contrast, Rory had a charmed kitten-hood growing up with her mom and siblings until I brought her home.
Maybe it's just her. Just how she was put together. Humans can have mental illness, and I suppose so can cats.
She is intensely curious. Mostly because she's scared of everything and needs to check it out and make sure it's safe. We have to feed her a few kibbles at a time because otherwise she bolts her food and then throws it up. She'll even drink water until she throws it up.
She is terrified of strangers and turns into a feral wolverine at the vet's office. She's only been twice and they have to dart her in the carrier before they can examine her.
But don't let me give you the idea she has no quality of life. She enjoys wearing grocery sacks and deliberately puts one on anytime we bring home shopping. She spends most of her days snoozing on my ironing board or in a chair. She enjoys being near us, if not being cuddled, as long as it's on her terms. At night after we've settled down she gets on the beds, and she has to be touching one of us to sleep.
She likes to go outside in the sun and fresh air, as long as there aren't any dogs or other cats or cars around, which makes the roof ideal.
I've had cats all my life, and somehow they still have the capacity to surprise me. They're all so different! Rory may not be the affectionate, devoted companion I was hoping for after I'd lost my beloved Wilson, but she is undoubtedly her own cat. And I'm glad she lives here, with us. I think she has the best quality of life here that she could have, in her sheltered little world, with Rey to provide just enough excitement. Anyone else would have driven her miles away and thrown her out a long time ago!
Happy birthday, stinker. It's a good thing you're so darn cute!