Oy. My kitties are growing and they could not be cuter. Or more different from each other. They sure do have cute little personalities!
Luke seems the more independent one, with all his curiosity and wandering around into every nook and cranny. He hops onto the bathroom sink when I wash, a paw swiping the water. He works open the sliding glass shower door to check what's going on in there. He leaps on the windowsill when a car comes or goes, when the dog barks, when the wind blows. He drags this worked-over, frayed and filthy string everywhere. He hops up on the table, drops it on my laptop, and backs away expectantly. This means I have to throw it. Sometimes in the morning I wake up with it on my shoulder. Awww.
But for all his roaming, he is the first to want to cuddle, worming his way onto my wrists when I type at the table. I let him sometimes, and type with one hand for a while. He is purring then.
Bert is the thinker, watching, never leaping without considering all the angles. He is smaller than Luke, and will always be a small cat. He does his own thing during the day, only occasionally interacting with me, but when he wants me, he squeaks. Awww. He doesn't meow, only emits a tiny squeak that always gets my instant response. When I come in from outside, he runs up to me and then plops down on his side right in front of me. I have to stumble to avoid stepping on him! Today I stumbled AND dropped the laundry on him, so it was a moving pile of shirts for a second.
But at night, he is almost frantic with wanting to cuddle. He leaps on the bed, settles in the crook of my neck, and kneads with vigor. If he doesn't settle down in a minute or so I have to heave him over down to the bottom of the bed. If I heave him too close to Abby then I hear "GRRR!" "Squeak!' Plop. Pitter patter, he leaps up on me again from the other side of the bed. Rinse. Repeat.
They sure keep me hopping.