Judicious use of the furry middle finger

I don't really like cats that are too friendly. I know this is awful, an affront to cat-lovers world wide, but it's true. I like a bit of discernment in my cat, a bit of choosiness, not a mushball that sits on any human that happens to be immobile. It seems an indicator of intelligence - in survival of the fittest, the fittest could hardly be a lap-loving ball of fur.
Since as a choosy cat-owner I choose Siamese, I'm not really worried about our future cats, who will undoubtedly have judicious use of the furry middle finger.
Husband was showered with kitty stuff for his birthday, including Kittens for Dummies and the Kitten Mitten, so all we're waiting for is for them to grow up enough to adopt.
I've done really well since Rocky's departure... but on Saturday I was sitting in our local neighborhood coffee shop reading American Fuji and drinking the beloved crunchy chai latte, and Husband alerted my attention to a eight-or-so month old Siamese being held by a man in the window. My eyes immediately filled with tears. I am learning that I tend to think that I'm not sad about something then cry spontaneously at small things.