Bentley, who is affectionate only on his own feline terms (unlike my daughter's cat Mia, who flings herself at you, and my son's old fat cat Autumn who purrs like a coffee grinder), nevertheless seems to be aware of his own beauty. His eyes become luminous, his "moon eyes" I call them, and he holds his head nobly, as if having faraway visions. Visions of tuna, probably, but never mind, it makes him look noble.
