Counter to what any animal behaviorist will tell you, Ember loves belly rubs. She begs for them.
With her paws waving in the air, Ember looked around. Her ears smooshed into the carpet as she moved her head, watching the upside down world. “Why is no one rubbing my belly?” she asked of no one in particular. “Why do you beg for their pathetic attention?” Inkblot had flopped on the carpet a few feet from Ember’s spot. “I’m not begging. I’m… advertising! Belly rubs wanted! Rub mah belly!” “No proper cat wants any human to rub their ‘belly’.” “Maybe I’m not a proper cat. Maybe I’m special-er.” Inkblot stretched to her full length, “I’d agree. You are not a proper cat. You’re more like a dog than most dogs I’ve met, yet you do not bark.” The human female stood up from her position at the nearby desk and Ember stretched to expose as much of her underside as she could. And it worked. “Awww! Aren’t you the cutest kitty in the world! My widdle Ember,” the human cooed. Ember’s eyes slid closed in pleasure as her human rubbed the soft white fur of her underbelly. She purred. “You shouldn’t encourage them. You should be executing the hand – with swift vengeance! I call my move the ‘Venus Cat Trap’. They touch my underside and I curl around their hand clawing and biting to to teach a lesson!” Inkblot had moved to sit up so the human wouldn’t be tempted to touch her in the same way. Ember rolled her eyes upward, as she did when she was thinking. “If it is the ‘Venus Cat Trap’, shouldn’t you be trapping a cat?” “I… you… shut up.”