He is fat and fluffy and has more personality than any cat I've ever encountered. He will literally roll on his back and meow and flail his paws when you walk in to the room. Not in a doggy way either, in a very twisty pathetic feline way. My parents have a drinking fountain, and if he hears anyone pressing it he will run into the room and jump up to watch. He lays on the drinking fountain all the time, making squirting him a constant temptation. And if you're in the bathroom with the door closed he will swipe his paws under the door until you let him in. He only likes to be pet on his head or behind his ears, and will snap at you if you try to pet his back or belly, which is ironic considering how much time he spends doing what looks like begging for belly rubs.
Anyway. Yesterday we were all about to leave my parents house, and he escaped into the front yard. He's not exactly the hardest cat to catch, considering that if you start cooing and sweet-talking him he rolls onto his back, but yesterday he was anxious to stay outside and had barricaded himself behind a bush.
Backstory: My little sister has a stuffed cow that makes a horrendous mooing noise. For a school psychology project she used tuna fish to condition Jasper to come when he heard the noise. And it worked.
We were in a hurry, and I didn't know where the cow was. So yes, I mooed at him. And not just once. Needless to say, it didn't work, and I had to crawl through the bushes and sweet-talk him, which is, of course, much less ridiculous.
I'm not even sure how, but I feel like mooing at cats is a metaphor for life sometimes, and that I've been doing it a lot lately. But either the cats start mooing back or the cows come home, right? Or something...