After a certain amount of time, particularly years, when a cat behaves in a certain fashion, that cat behaves in a certain fashion.
 

Muffin on the wall.
 
Muffin is shy. She has spent most of her life in hiding from heaven knows what real or imaginary things. But that's Muffin, who has her own appealing characteristics . . . when she can be seen.

And then comes the factors which change one's life. Such as moving.

I expected moving to traumatize Muffin the way most other events upset her. But I was very mistaken. In going from what were essentially northern exposure windows to windows all around, a scientist has been born.

Muffin has discovered the sun spot. Now, an inferior cat may choose a corner of the spot, and be out of the sun within 5 minutes. Not Muffin. She has made a thorough study of the whole subject. At particular times of day, she's in particular places around the home. This corner, that desk, a hallway, or whatever. The common theme is that she is centered in a sun patch and centered so that she can count on maximum exposure in the sun even as the patch is moving.
 

The sun! the sun!
 
Occasionally I feel somewhat sorry for Muffin, as she trudges from one part of the house to another in order to be in the right sun patch at the right time.

There is only one situation that I dread these days: overcast weather . . . with Muffin following me around and doubtlessly asking me to make the sun come back.
 

Along with the sun has come self-confidence, such as supervising the changing of the sheets.