Our cat is a nutbag. Munchie is seriously the oddest kitteh I've ever met. I adore her and love the heck out of her and a day doesn't go by that she doesn't crack us up.
She constantly tries to sniff and taste you. It's like she's just making 100% sure you haven't turned into cheese since the last time she sniffed your elbow, hand, knee, foot, leg, whatever. It never hurts and she doesn't really bite- even my mom with basically no animal/pet experience to speak of (she has wicked bad allergies) has let Munchie take a nip without batting an eye.
I found Miss Munchie driving home from teaching one night, about 6 months after my sweet Persephone died. (Here's a picture of Persey --> and then I'll stop talking about her for a bit because I'm seriously PMSing and on the verge of tears thinking about her. Aw. Hm. Scratch that- I'm crying. Sigh.) I had been telling Mr. Zigkvetch in no uncertain terms for months that I was not nearly ready for another kitty. But there she was, darting out of the woods on a road that I never usually take home but did for some reason that night. I stopped the car and clicked and cooed at her and up this little black and white munchkin came to me. I scooped her up and she cuddled in, I told her she was the cutest little munchie thing (?!) and that was that. (Ok, there's more to the story- how I took her to the animal shelter the next day, but they were full and basically said they'd pay for her first vet visit, shots and Advantage if I'd just take her and I was thrilled because I was already in love with her and knew she'd wound her way into Mr. Z's heart as well, BUT I DIGRESS...)
Anyway, other weird Munchieness...
She was just a few months old when I found her and never really learned some basic cat stuff. Like when to hiss. The first few times she did it, I was really kind of miffed and hurt. Until I figured out that she had no idea what a hiss means in the cat world and that she uses it to say she's annoyed or sleepy or in need of a stretch. It's so funny.
We can only hold her one way. She absolutely, positively will not be held in any other way. We have no idea why. And when she's done relaxing on you? She'll hiss and walk away.
I can always get her to jump up on the couch with me. It never fails. If I make my eyes as big as I can and stare at her, it triggers something in her that she can't resist. Her little butt wiggles as she gets ready to pounce but then up she jumps and sits or lays down. Such a huntress is she.
She loves to sit said butt on our feet. If you're just sitting down, say writing on your blog, and your foot happens to be on the floor? There's a furry butt on it.
She cannot resist tunnels. Sometimes Mr. Z and I will lean over and make "tunnels" just by putting our hands on the floor. She'll go through one and then the other, over and over. Did I mention she's not the sharpest cheese in the fromagerie? (She'd be offended, but hey, at least I used a cheese reference.)
She snores and moans and groans. I was so worried when we first got her. There's nothing wrong though, other than her being, shall we say, a little rough around the edges (as I type, she's wide awake and just moaning away.
She seems to like it when I pet her nose and forehead with my thumb, but it always makes her yawn a giant yawn.
This cat loves cheese like nothing I've ever seen. If she hears the mere rustle of plastic coming from the kitchen, she runs in and demands her fair share of any cheese that might be being utilized. Actually, any food that falls on the floor is MUNCHIE'S PROPERTY by default and the look of utter disgusted disbelief on her face if you try to pick it up is truly a thing of beauty. Tonight she got away with (?) snarfing up a small piece of broccoli. (Yes, we're very careful about onions.)
The other night, she really topped herself in the weird department. She jumped up on the bed and seeing that her preferred resting spot is where my head and pillow goes was taken, she settled down between us. We Mr. Z and I were reading and apparently not living up to Munchie's expected entertainment schedule. I suddenly felt a paw and a few not-drawn claws clap me on the back. "MUNCHIE." Nothing. Then a second, firmer paw and slightly drawn claws smacked me. "MUNCHIE!!! NO!!!!" And up she jumps and, inexplicably, runs under the blanket and throws herself into a ball next to my leg where she proceeded to sleep comfortably for the next few hours. She's never done this before and has never, ever wanted to go under the blankets, but there she was- snug as a bug in a rug. Or snug as a snoring cat in my bed in this case.