The (almost) first and last pictures I took of my little dude. When I brought him home he weighed just a pound, and I was afraid the older foster kittens would keep him from getting enough food. Joke was on them, though: he climbed on top of Mt. Kibble and made them all eat around him. He wanted love and attention while his two older cousins were still hissing from behind the toilet, and he was willing to scale Mount Human to get it, which is how he got his name.
He liked to hold hands (sometimes, which is sometime more than 99.9% of cats) and ride and/or melt on shoulders (all the time). He was very handed and could only settle if he went up the left shoulder and ended up with his head on the right, which is why, when hugging my partner, we talk about putting your head on the 'head end' or the 'butt end' — because while riding on the shoulders of one human is good, doing that while giving the other one head-bonks-o'-love is better. Head Bonks O' Love fierce enough to concuss were bestowed upon many friends, too.
Sometimes I'd hold him in my arms and then hug my partner, and as soon as Monks was squished in the middle he'd start to purrRRRRRRRRRR.
I used to say he had only two wishes in the world: to be round, and to be loved. He never got the first one; in his prime, the vet described him as "14.5 pounds of muscle" — but oh, my little dude, you were loved.
