My boy cat, Mister Whiskers, has a foot fetish. He loves feet. If anyone stops for even just a minute – whether standing or sitting – he gravitates to the feet and takes possession of them.
I even have a broken pinky finger to prove it. A few years ago, I was in the kitchen – stopped – and Mister was in the process of clutching my foot just as I decided to move. I did not look down first and did not see him. I tripped over him and fell on my hand – breaking my pinky finger. It healed crooked because it was so swollen the doctor couldn’t straighten it. (Sigh. . .)
Now I look before I move. Well. . . most of the time. Sometimes Mister reaches out and grabs at my foot as I’m walking past him.
“No, Mister. . . that’s ‘my’ foot!”