Not all cats are descendants of Egyptian gods.
Nope. Not by a long shot.
I love my potato cat. 
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Stuffy makes me so happy. I stand up, and he starts smiling and wagging his curly tail. I go to the restroom and he’s so excited. I come out of the restroom and it’s like he hasn’t seen me in months. He does what we call the Stuffy Shuffle. Just pure joy all the time.
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That IS happy! Thank you for sharing it, now I’m happy, too.
Here’s what’s made me happy recently:
Louie’s first camping weekend starts in in a couple of hours. I’m pretty excited! There will be kids and other dogs for him to make deep, soulful eye contact with.
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You have a real life happy place!
How was he?
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Now that it’s not Cat Day…
He was an absolute joy until he hit the wall Saturday afternoon and started growling at people. Everyone had been loving on him - four women, HockeyGuy and my son, and five kids - and he particularly loved stepdaughter’s cousin, who told him that she loved him and if he ever needed anything, he should call and she would come get him (“you call auntie”). He went so far as to make snarls when she checked in with him after he growled at the 7-year-old who draped herself on him for a hug. So we took him to the Jeep, maybe 500’ from the main hub (fire pit, tarp, table) and put him in the back seat with his pillow and blankie, and he sat there staring at the hub for a couple of hours. I occasionally waved at him and gave him the “stay” hand. Both windows were open and he’s jumped out before, so he chose to stay there. Eventually we took his food to him and he ate, then we left him with the door open. This was at maybe 5 or 6. He curled up and went to sleep, and husband had to lift him out to transfer him to the tent when we went to bed at 10 or 11. He slept until maybe 8 the next morning and woke up returned to Mr. Love status, though he was only with for a couple of hours before I took him home so the rest of us could pack up and go tubing at a bigger river.
It worries me, but we’re all in official agreement that he’s very puppyish, and just got too tired to cope. Lotta people, lotta smells, lotta treats, lotta love. We did duck races in our small, shallow river on Saturday (running up and down the river while everyone cheers the 20 floating ducks) and there was corn hole, frisbee, etc. The outhouse is a walk, and he followed most of us when we went. Stepdaughter was drunk and loud on Friday night, though jolly-loud. Just so much hubbub. The granddaughter pictured above reading on him melted down at the end of tubing and cried and cried, which is unlike her. Camping breaks people right in half, I guess. Grandson went home looking like he had chicken pox and later developed fever and painful, swollen armpit lymph nodes, which he’s had to see a doctor about.
So. That’s it! Louie was perfect until he wasn’t. And then he was BAD.
Fun is hard, and everyone is expected to sack up.
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Sounds like you did the rightest possible thing by giving him his own space, then participation at will.
Nothing got broken, no one got hurt. That’s a win in my book!
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Completely agree, though chicken pox-looking kid is saying he’s done camping. He’s had a rough couple of years - last year he got into something, poison oak, maybe, and the year before something happened that required that he be notified that Jared was a medic in the Army, because whatever injury (can’t remember) needed first aid and kiddo needed to be told that an Official Medical Authority had seen to it, so he was Officially Okay.
No way he’s going to be able to manage the FOMO of not going, though. He and melt-down-girl are best friends and camping is nearly complete freedom for the kids. We’re in a bowl shaped 15 acre or so field on a mountain, and it has everything a kid could want, along with adults who don’t care how grubby you get or how much junk you eat. Mom lectures this go were, as I recall, limited to “you’re too close together with those hatchets, move the logs apart and make sure you can see each other,” “you’re too close to the edge of that sheer rock cliff, back up,” “don’t snitch,” and “get out of the fire pit.”
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All very good. 
. I’ve had to tell my son & the neighbor girl the same thing when they were playing with my ax.
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Ahhhh…. To be so relaxed. No worries.
Lucy can rest easy, secure in knowing that she’s the best good girl ever.
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