Catherine has not got a saint's name for nothing. She's one of the calmest, most patient cats I've ever met, a trait best illustrated by the list of things she has allowed G to do to her:
• Attach clip-on earrings to her ears
• Dress her in a Superman cape, a witch's hat and a scarf (not all at the same time)
• Put action figures astride her back as if they're riding her
• Pick up her (small) scratching post when she's curled up on top of it, then twirl in circles while singing "She's dancing, she's dancing!"
• Hug her, kiss her, squeeze her, jounce her, and fool with her paws
• All sorts of other indignities I can't recall at the moment
This is the resigned expression Catherine wears when G is carrying her around, which happens approximately 28274748 times a day:
Mind you, G does all this in a spirit of love and fun, but it still drives me bonkers at times. One of the sentences most frequently spoken in our house, right after "Please move your shoes/toys/coat/snack wrapper off the stairs before I fall and break my neck," is "Will you leave the poor cat alone?" On the rare occasions when Catherine does give G a little nip or scratch, I'm always firmly on Catherine's side, because you can bet that G deserved whatever she got and then some.
So let's all take a moment to recognize Catherine Marie _____, the Best Kitty Ever*. I hope she survives the rest of G's childhood without having a nervous breakdown.
*I gave her a middle name to add gravitas to scoldings. "Catherine Marie, stop eating that piece of paper!" has a weight and flow to it that plain old "Catherine" just can't achieve. Malcolm also has a middle name; it's James. Oh, hush, they're my cats and I can call them whatever I want. :P