Ahhh, yes. Told some doubters Skeeter loved to test people she was considering calling human friends. First, she’d put one claw just to dimple the skin of a finger or handy other appendage. If you did not jerk your “threatened” appendage away – and thus earned for yourself a nice long scratch which probably would get infected if not quickly and properly washed, debrided and doused with several potions ranging from hydrogen peroxide to iodine with stops along the way at betadine you well might be allowed to be cat-friend. For those like me – so it’s a cat-egory of one! – she’d stick a canine fang right to the point of busting-skin into a lip and stare at you with pure predatory eyes. Jerk not nor any other means of terror-control and she’d consent to wave her tail-flag in front of your face for a long, slow gentle pull until she stood on tippy-claws of front feet, the arching back flattening and her purr turn rumble and when let back down hop aboard her your-chest bed and consent to be worshiped. And, why not?
Just brought back the promise to self: next time I DC-ward go make sure it’s cherry blossom season, even if the expense of lodging goes past reasonable – such a sight in person I am sure will be a marvel. And, if I am most luckly, perhaps a tree or three will talk to me about what they have seen.