I was watching my boycat earlier - he was having a mad half hour and charging about in the field behind my house, climbing trees and pouncing on things. He just looked so joyous and free
He then took a well-needed rest on a bench and lapped up the attention of passers by who admired his beauty, some of whom took photos of him
After that all became too much he sloped inside for purry cuddles and fell asleep on my face chest. He really, really loves being a cat 
In contrast, my late girl did not identify as a cat at all. She was fiercely loyal to me but hated everyone and everything. She would berate me daily for ruining her life (ie bringing other cats into the household) and glower and scowl if said other cats had the temerity to play and have fun. I always believed she was a grumpy old spinster trapped in the body of a cat 