I have four cats who absolutely love belly rubs and having their paws played with, I can touch them anywhere and they dont mind one bit. My fifth cat is more opinionated and more like a typical cat.
One of my cats can fetch toys like a dog, and I taught him how to sit.
Only my Graham does not like the catio. Among my cats only my Graham has destroyed furniture, small appliances and accumulated receipts for repair and replacements. Only my Graham is not afraid of my yelling. Only my Graham does not like to be petted and carried. Only my Graham "talks" back to me when being scolded.
Domino: likes to be held like a baby--facing me, with his front paws on my shoulder, and one of my hands on his back, and the other arm is where he rests his lower half.
Cosette: likes to play fetch, chases her tail, and turns around 3 times before lying down. I think she was raised by dogs.
TV: will reach out and grab your hand if you stop petting her before she's ready for you to stop
Jemmy and Leo: the former ferals who are biologically probably cousins (I believe their mothers were littermates) don't meow, but they chirp at each other. It honestly does sound like some sort of conversation with rising question tones and non-rising answers.
Nugget's tail is more like a dog than a cat! When he is happy and playful he will wag his tail a lot side to side. At first I was worried he was getting agitated, but when I back off, he will come over and ask for more pettings! Now when I see him hanging around me with his tail wooshing, I know he is in a good mood and wants lovings.
Three decades ago, on two separate occasions, two ladies explained that I was "never, ever, ever!" to allow another woman to badger me into dancing with her. They explained that I was simply that bad. I am OK with that.
Living without a TV, I listen to a large spectrum of instrumental music. Latin Jazz artists like Justo Almario, Juan Carlos Quintero, or Carlos Santana make my feet and body move. Casper, my purebred male Turkish Van lived with me until he was 19 1/2. I would pick this 13 pound boy up, place his front paws on my shoulders and let his head see over my left shoulder. He did not care where my feet went. His feet were not getting stomped on. I could trot, turn quickly, back up, samba poorly and he enjoyed it. The other cats would back away, less about making room and more about their total embarrassment for my skills. When I hear selected songs today, I look to the wood floor in the family room hoping to see him. I miss my Casper and cat dancing with that good friend.