Rudy was a party animal. He loved people, and especially those who visited the house for meetings. If there was a meeting, he felt that he should be the center of it all. He would jump into the middle of the table and lay on the meeting notes. No matter how many times I'd pick him up and toss him off, he insisted he was the hottest thing in cat fur and needed to be included in the meeting.
Art and Rudy had a morning ritual. Art would pour a glass of milk, and Rudy would drink it. Even if Art covered the glass, Rudy would knock off the newspaper and drink the milk. Art got angry every morning.
Clawing carpets was not just sport, but a religion with Rudy. Not even a spray water bottle would disuade him from his favorite past time. He would just look at me when I squirted him as if to say, "and you want me to do what?".
We have a claw foot bathtub, nice and deep. Rudy would jump in it and play with something, never knew what it was, but he obviously did.
Rudy chased Maggie a lot, not that she minded. When they ran through the house, nothing was safe. Paper would fly, lamps got knocked over. One Saturday morning, we heard a big crash. My chair got knocked over.
Such a sweet boy, and such a bootiful sister.
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