Feel free to elaborate with all the gushy, feline lovin’ detail you can muster. And of course, all you wisenheimers will want to chime in with your favorite part to eat or whatever
I had to pick other. Somehow there was no ‘toe beans’ option, a sad oversight. And it is a distinct joy entirely separate from my general enjoyment of a mere ‘paw’. Closely followed by tail and then ears in a near dead-heat.
D’oh! I can’t believe I left off the beans( I’m just shocked and thrilled I could manage to use the poll function). Yes, beans are their own, distinctive asset (who doesn’t love the jellies!?)
To answer my own poll, I’m very partial to the old man ear hair.
Declawing a cat cuts off the ends of their toes, and the toe beans are distorted and scarred.
Note to cat people: I was not the one who declawed the cat! He came that way! He was a rescue from a shelter. He also had a mouthful of rotten teeth, which we had to take care of. I was extra careful to keep him an inside cat, especially in AZ. A cat with no claws and no teeth is quite defenseless!
I had to answer “Other”, because it all depends on the particular cat, and what it’s doing at any a particular time.
Like, I had two cats that were brothers. I liked one cat’s fur, because he was colored in patches, and the texture of each color was different, so it all stuck out in random directions, so I called him the scruffy one. I figured he’d inherited all the scruffy genes in the family.
Then there was the black and white cat I used to have, who had bright white whiskers. I loved the way they stood out against the deep black fur of his face.
There are other examples, but I’ll spare you a full recitation of my entire Cat History.
I love to bury my nose in a furry kitty neck or shoulder. It’s even better when they’ve been in the hay pile (barn cats) or come in cold from winter air, of just bring the scents of earth and leaves and grass with them. I find it incredibly soothing.
The purr is important too. From a good purr-er it’s almost a tangible thing, and it’s homey and comforting and invariably makes me happy.
I picked paws. I love to watch them makin’ biscuits. Even when they’re painfully makin’ 'em on me.
I had a wonderful orange boy cat named Max who used to sit on the arm of the sofa next to me and let me stroke his front paws while we watched TV. Yeah, at that point I’d given up any hope of a real social life with human beings.