My adventures with my new friend began immediately. Now that she had a "mother", she was going to milk it as much as possible. Literally! She found a ribbon on my nightgown and decided it was the closest to a cat nipple she'd ever get and proceeded to suck at it for 10 minutes every night before lying clear across my neck and chest to sleep. I tried to "wean" her, but she was so determined to look for something to suck on that she ended up sucking holes in some of my clothes when I was out. The Linus syndrome also works for cats.
Being, to my mother's chagrin, a night owl, I tend to concentrate better when everybody is quiet, and no light outside can beckon and seduce my attention. In real fact, I actually would prefer not to have to sleep at all, if my body would have cooperated well.
It took some serious consideration to find just the right name for her: it had to be simple enough for her to respond to, sound female, and I wanted her to have a chinese name.
Now that she was equipped with a passport and the required shots, I could travel with her almost everywhere. I fly back to Canada thrice a year, and after a month or so of adopting Ming Ming, I bought her one of those hard cat cages for air travel for her first Christmas in Vancouver.
Life with Ming Ming is an autumn harvest; fresh, colorful, bountiful, and sometimes spiky. She is basically, though, a very well-behaved cat with quite a bit of fantasy, thank goodness. I certainly would not want a boring personality in my household. Her deep sense of gratitude at having found a home manifests itself in some form of her response and reaction to me on a daily basis, but, like any self-respecting female, she lets you know immediately if she doesn't like how she's treated. One needs time to earn their love and trust, and to do that, it takes also some effort and sensual intelligence.