True. When I first adopted my tiny kitten, he weighed a few ounces I suppose, and it was so fun to have him greet me when I came home from work by running up my leg and my shirt to sit atop me. Many laughs all around, and the cat enjoyed it.
As he go older and heavier, it became less fun, but I still didn’t put a stop to it.
Things culminated when Buck (the cat) was a fully grown part Maine Coon that tipped the scales at 17 pounds. He (not me, but he) created this game where, when I came home from work, he’d be sleeping in his La-Z-Boy recliner (not mine, but his), and I would tip-toe past him, desperately trying not to wake him up, and I’d head for the shower. Undressed in the bathroom, I’d take a quick peek down the hallway. No sign of him. Good.
Tip-toe over to the tub, pull aside the shower curtain, place one leg over the tub, the other leg still out on the bath rug, turn to the door…and suddenly he was there in the doorway, rearing up on his hind legs, then making a terrifying leaping sprint at me. All this in a split second; cats are amazingly fast. And before I knew it, he was climbing up my naked body so quickly that my hands couldn’t grab him.
The pain, man. Wow. Bloody welts all over.
And this happened almost every day for a while there.
One day, Dad stopped by for a visit, and we got to talking about the cat, and I told him what had been happening.
Dad stared at me in disbelief. “Once you’re in the bathroom, why don’t you shut the door?”
“That would be cheating.”