Hissy Fit Jones is an enigma. Of the four, he’s the one I can least read.
In this photo he’s sitting beside me on the sofa, watching me type on the computer. He does this a lot. Hissy likes to be close to me on HIS terms. He may or may not let me rub his chin or scratch his back. On the rare occasion he allows me to hold him, he must see he’s free to jump down any time he chooses.
When I’m working in my home office, Hissy is either in the floor snoozing in a sun puddle or snuggled up in his man cave on the climber. When I get up to stretch, he watches me, ready to run away should I come too close.
Last night I walked past him lying on the bed. I reached out my hand to pet him and he jumped up and backed away. But when I put my head down so the crown faced him, he came and rubbed against my head for several minutes.
Hissy is jealous of the other cats, especially Yella Fella. When Yella is getting loves from me, you can bet Hissy will soon appear. I have to lie in bed a few minutes after the alarm goes off to let my mind transition from the world of dreams to this one. This morning Yella came to say good morning. Soon Hissy was there too, walking atop my chest demanding as much attention as Yella got.
One would think that after 9 years he would be used to living the “indoor” life, but he is as much a feral cat today as the day he was born. Little Girl, on the other hand, is more of a lap kitty and prefers to hang out with me than with her male siblings.
I wish I could find a way to let him know he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.