About 4 years ago, my husband and I adopted a small black cat from the local animal shelter. She's no great looker but has the most wonderful coat of fur. The people at the animal shelter called her Velvet — once we got her home, she rapidly became Fuzzball.
She was very enthusiastic about people and loved attention, but was also terrified of them. When we first got her and would pick her up, she would go entirely limp (no laughing matter when it's 10 pounds of limp cat in your arms). She also desperately wanted to sit on a lap, but was too nervous to sit on either me or my husband. Instead she'd wedge herself between the two of us.
Gradually Fuzzball became braver and these days will even tolerate visitors to the apartment (whom she tends to view with lofty, if somewhat nervous, scorn). She certainly has no difficulty with sitting on our laps — the problem tends to be preventing her from dribbling all over us with happiness.
We did have a bit of a flash back the other day. I was being a pest to my husband and trying to lick his nose. He turned around and tickled me and I fell on the floor in a giggling heap. I noticed the cat nearby looking a little nervous so I talked to her for a moment or two and scratched her behind her ears. Walt leaned over to the desk, picked something up and threw it into the wastepaper basket across the room. The Fuzzball decided it was no longer safe for small cats and dove under the living room chair (her favorite place of refuge in times of trouble, eg when a vet's visit is threatened).
I eventually coaxed her out, and she even sat on Walt's lap before the end of the evening, but the whole series of events had obviously disturbed her. The good news, though, is that at least she has a good home now where she is indulged and loved.
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