This is Keiko, a Japanese fortune cat or maneki neko. Keiko lives on top of my computer monitor. She’s always pleased, as you can tell from the happy expression on her little cat face, and she’s always politely beckoning or waving, depending on how you look at it. Keiko does not shake off her cute little red collar, and doesn’t mind wearing a bell. In short, she’s the perfect cat.
This is Sheba—my living breathing cat—completely occupied by her favorite activity: eating. The photo is blurry because Sheba tends to move her head around so as to strategically position her mouth directly above the tastiest morsel of cat food. While noisily scarfing down her food, Sheba purrs loudly and talks (“mer!”). Being a cat, Sheba has no lips, but I swear I hear lip-smacking when she eats. After five to ten minutes of “purr-chomp-chomp-lip-smack-purr,” Sheba says “mrew?” and hastily dashes out the cat door. She comes back for dinner, announcing her presence with several dramatic, open-mouthed cries of “Mraaaaaaaw!” while she runs as fast as she can toward the food dish. The loud yet plaintive “Mraaaaaaaaaaw” also serves to remind her humans to fill replenish the bowl with fresh kibble, in case they’ve forgotten.
After dinner, if it’s cold outside, Sheba will stick around and allow her humans to pet her, but not to pick her up. When she’s had enough petting, Sheba grabs the petter’s hand with her teeth. This is her way of saying “you’re messing up my gorgeous, velvety fur, which I’ve just preened, by the way! I feel like hunting now and your hand reminds me of a mouse.” Any human who continues petting her does so at his own peril.
If it’s warm outside, Sheba will promptly leave the house in search of amusing outdoor activities such as claiming random yards as her territory, batting bugs with her paw, and possibly directing a pitiful “Mraaaaaaaaaw” at unsuspecting neighbors in search of handouts.
When she’s tired, Sheba comes back home for bedtime. She’ll curl up under the covers and pet her humans with her paw. She’ll snooze and purr for a few hours. Then she’ll make sure I’m asleep, and use my favorite upholstered chair as a scratching post. By the time we wake up, Sheba is gone. At least until breakfast.
