Despite the fact that she was given to me by my brother for Christmas six years ago, Mojo is 100% devoted to my husband, and basically only tolerates me when he's not there. Or if I have food. At night, she will walk over me to snuggle with him. She is his cat, through and through, and has been since she was a wee kitten. I am very jealous of that.
Butterscotch is my cat. I've had her for almost 11 years, and she's usually somewhere in my general vicinity. (Right now, she's on the sofa behind me, absorbing solar rays.) She wants to keep an eye on me. She's not much of a cuddler, though, and never has been. Scotch is far too cool for cuddling. You will never find Scotch draped over me, or curled up on my feet. That's not her. But she'll usually hang out with me if I'm feeling down, and will even indulge me with a minute or two of cuddling if she senses I'm upset.
But last night, after I finally finished the worst day of the longest week ever, it wasn't my pal Scotch who came over to comfort me. It was Mo. She jumped in my lap and purred, and let me move her around so I was more comfy (usually, she bolts if I so much as breathe funny). She even permitted me to rub her belly, and didn't kick me once. She hung out with me when I took my bath (even though she's petrified of water). She even snuggled under the covers with me when I finally went to bed, and lulled me to sleep with her crazy loud purr. She stayed with me pretty much from the minute I got home.
You'd almost think Mo liked me, or something.
And where was my pal Scotch? She was nowhere to be seen.