If he wants to go out he'll let you know in no uncertain terms. If he wants to come in he's even louder. He'll try to sit on your lap during meals and sample your fare so we implemented Cat Exclusion Zones (CEZs) including wherever plates are. So naturally he takes great notice of this and tries to sit on the table instead. When he's evicted from that he'll hop up onto the kitchen bench to see what's cooking.
He can look quite sweet, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But it does, quite quickly when a new block left is out of the fridge to soften and he's licking the top of it. He loves baked goods and we have to hide our fresh bread in the highest cupboard when it comes out of the oven to cool or he'll chew the crust off it. He does have endearing traits such as only stealing and eating the muffins I've baked myself. He doesn't eat anything from Woolworths.
He sleeps in the most awkward places. He loves woolen fleece and will even sleep on it whilst still wet in the bucket. He rolls on the computer desk and rearranges everything although we can only understand his filing system in terms of "scrunched up", "partially shredded" or "on the floor".
Cats tend to be either mousers or bird-murderers. Jamie is both if we don't keep his audible collar on. It has a bell so we can also tell where he is in the garden by listening. This has lead to his nickname of "Jay-bell". He is 10 years old now and dribbles when he's hungry. If he's hungry there is no peace. Most of the existing photos of him are when he is asleep as that's the only time he is still enough.
Yet, we love him. He loves us too apparently, and makes a huge effort to tell us. His purr is so loud that we have to turn the TV volume up if he's sitting on our lap. He'll climb on top of anything in to get to your lap including books, laptops, knitting and crafts involving sharp things. He tries to sit on my (fast moving) knees if I'm spinning wool. He meows at the bedroom door in the morning for admittance to the CEZ on the bed. Attempts to sleep with him there are futile. Provided you can sleep through the noise you will either wake up with deadened legs or a face full of fur. He wants to be where we are, no matter what we're doing. Even now he's on my lap doing circles with his needle-feet and getting in the way of the keyboard.
On first seeing Jamie a friend said "hey that cat looks like Hitler!"
The resemblance doesn't end there.