One thing is for sure, Stanley wasn't much of a cuddler. He was like a museum, you can look but you can only touch on his terms...which were few and far between. He was a riot, he was partially paralyzed in his hind end - he had a wonky walk, and sometimes had no control over his bowels. We called his little brown gifts "Stanley Steamers". His faults made him ever more perfect. I didn't care that he would leave poops for me, and I cherished the moments that he did let me rub his ears.