Ding, my resident hanger-on at some strange existentialist philosophy
salon, is three today. He appears to have developed a three-way switch:

  1. Stop, consider a question along the lines of:
      a. Am I here?
      b. What is the purpose of life?
      c. If I look behind me, will my tail be there?
     and wail until comforted.

  2. Desperately need skritches, which will be expressed by trying
     to dig under the hoomin in bed, assuming hoomin is not lying
     prone. If the latter, climb on hoomin's back, purr and knead.

  3. Teleport to the mothership on seeing a stranger, unless he
     decides he loves them at first sight.

He's really charming when he chooses to interact, and never is nasty
(well, he's not at all enthusiastic about being picked up). He is
definitely a handsome fellow, of a more or less Russian Blue persuasion,
and trim and a bit muscular.

The latter doesn't do him much good when he wrestles his adoptive sister
Rhonda, he at 11.5 and she at 6.5 pounds. If it's serious wrestling, she
will tie him in knots. Most of the time, however, they switch from
wrestling to grooming.