I am usually thankful for my Grandcat Seymour.
Even though he can be a major pain in the behind, he can be the cuddliest, sweetest, softest, most personable cat in our home. There is no match for his cuteness when asleep. It goes a long way to offset his truly heinous stalking of the elder felines.
A very long way.
While time has helped and reduced his trips to the woodshed to several times a week, down from several times a day.
The Old Ladies usually tolerate him in wary acceptance and hiss unattractively when he wanders too close to them. He still sometimes gets squirted until he is a damp, spikey, repentant cattan, at least he then has to expend his abundant energy cleaning himself. Then he naps, and we have sweet peace. This actually just happened, no joke.
But there is still the chance that he will pounce unexpectedly and they will have to fight for their dignity. He does now sport a scar on his ear, and I give them kudos for that small victory.
For the most part I am thankful though. He can be quite charming, until he’s not.