Jazz, the calico in the pictures, is the antithesis of the stereotypical aloof cat. She is needy. Clingy.
Her first choice to cling to isn't me; it's Trix, the orange in the pictures. It started when I adopted Jazz at about four weeks old, when Trix was around six years her senior. Both Jazz and her brother Todd were fascinated by Trix. I don't know if they thought she was their mother, but they just adored her, from the very start, whereas they never paid much attention to Emma.
Jazz tends to treat Trix as a pillow. If Trix is sleeping on my bed, and Jazz is ready for a nap, she'll come racing into the bedroom, leap up and throw herself across Trix. When she first did it, she weighed all of about a pound, and Trix was a full-grown cat of about eight pounds, who hardly noticed the impact. Trix was a good sport, and didn't complain or push Jazz away. Of course, now Jazz, who is lean but tall, outweighs Trix by a pound or two, and can get some serious momentum going when she throws herself through the air. Still, Trix simply grunts as Jazz lands, and then goes back to sleep.
On the few occasions when Trix gets irritated, then I am an acceptable substitute. But only if Jazz can perch on the right side of my torso, from elbow to shoulder. The left shoulder won't do. Moving higher, so there isn't a ten-pound weight on my forearm while I type, won't do either.
Somehow, even when she's being clingy, she's cute.