Josie is my second cat. She came to live with me as a companion to Tungsten. But Tungsten didn't want a companion, other than me, that is. My orange one guarded her domain jealously, and she and Josie fought on and off for weeks. Thus are good intentions used for paving stones.
When I met her, Josie was a very excited cat. She purred and purred, couldn't sit still and butted her head against everyone and everything. I didn't want a cat that would try to dominate Tungsten. Josie was and is an easy-going girl with a friendly attitude. Even when being assaulted by Tungsten, my new cat's expression was one of incomprehension as to why someone would want to hurt her. The fighting was so bad that I despaired at keeping Josie. She had come from a caring but crowded environment, and I think that, despite the hostility from the queen of the apartment, Josie liked her new semi-loneliness. So I persevered, and so did she. A few months later, she and Tungsten were sniffing noses and the white one was sneaking on to the bed early in the mornings to sleep there.
Josie is a fat cat. She isn't tremendously big, but she weighs almost two and a half times as much as Tungsten. Chubs loves her soft food, and I try to restrict that diet a bit, but I hate to take away something that means so much to her.
Her weight doesn't keep her sedentary, however - being a cat does that. No, she can be quite active, and she will chase and be chased in a game as fast as the next cat. She likes being on the top platform of the highest cat-tree I have, usually jumping there from the top of a lower one. That's where she will settle, snoozing, gazing out the window or simply watching what goes on in the apartment.
Early on, I found her a nervous animal. My Chubs would start at every noise, no matter how small. This was a contrast to Tungsten, who wouldn't worry if a grenade exploded next to her. Playing with Josie was frustrating because she was so easily distracted. Gradually, she relaxed and came to jump at only every second sound. That's how she has remained. She can see me approaching from across the room, yet still give her trademark squeak when, as if by magic, I appear beside her.
Like most cats, however, she can be silent when she wants, vanishing and materializing when the need arising. I wouldn't have thought such bulk could be teleported so simply. Yet most of the time, she can be seen ambling into a room, her round sides wobbling. If spoken to kindly or coyly, she will pause and rub up against furniture, as if she's embarrassed.
She's always been friendly. She is often the first to greet visitors; she loves to smell the insides of their shoes. But it has only been over the last few months that I have received the impression that my Chubs has become my friend. She now will roll over when I come near her; that's her way of asking for a face-rub. She purrs more than she used to, and more audibly. She's still not a lap-cat and may never be, but she does like stepping onto someone while they are sitting or lying, and kneading with her forepaws. Why she gets so happy at such a situation, I don't know, but I encourage it, despite the damage her weight and periodically unclipped claws will do to a person.
She sleeps at night with her big rear end against my side, and facing one edge of the bed. She annoyingly gets up whenever I do, but her ponderous return, usually after I've fallen asleep again, no longer wakes me up.
Tungsten is now most tolerant of her, and though they may never be friends, they are companions, and play together. While my orange one may look devious at times, may use her influence to selfish purposes, Josie never appears sly or mischievous. Her eyes narrow only in sleepiness, never in anger; even her hisses and growls - at foster-cats, for instance - are the least menacing sounds you will hear. I understand Tungsten more, and she has the more human face. But Josie's usually wears a very satisfied expression.