Renn is an interesting cat. He is the only beast in my household who enjoys a vigrous - very vigorous - chest rub. He also will get on my lap to knead my stomach. In the house, he kneaded my kidneys from the side. Oh, and he likes to imitate a demon from Hell.
It’s not what you’re thinking. My big boy’s behaviour is not always angelic, but it is never diabolical. No, this approximation occurs inadvertently and only at certain times. Renn likes to have his head rubbed, as furiously as his chest. Tungsten too, tough little creature that she was, enjoyed a speedy head-rub. Renn’s consists of me placing my hand right around his head, then rubbing so swiftly that my extremity becomes a blur.
At this time, his third eyelid crosses the eyeball and obscures it completely, only to retreat when I cease my action. The eyelid slowly slips back to its starting point, to advance once more when I rub again. That the animal enjoys the feeling of the rub is demonstrated by his rough purring, sometimes accompanied by drooling.
But while his head is being thus massaged, the third eyelid colours my big boy’s ocular orbs a bilious greyish-yellow, his mouth, partly-open, displays his fangs, and his purring could be misinterpreted as supernatural growls. It is an interesting moment that I have yet to capture by camera.
I think I’m safe, however. I’ve yet to see his head spin about or hear Mercedes McCambridge say unpleasant things to me. And the green bile he spews now and then is, fortunately, unconnected to head-rubs.
Eventually, Renn returns to normal and relaxes, sometimes on my lap. After that, the only otherworldly phenomenon I experience is the numbness in my legs, if he stays too long there.