Meet B. She is the original cat of the house. I knew I didn’t want a Siamese cat because they are vocal, but I assumed the initial meowing was related to being in the shelter and not typical behavior. Looking back, I should have recognized the hint of triangle in her face and the fact that very few of the other shelter cats were meowing in their cages. I got her soon after moving into my own condo, having just been through a divorce and feeling the emptiness in the rooms. She was immediately confident and full of character. B fills those rooms and along with a big section of my bed, managing to take up (what feels like) a 3rd of the space with her stretched out legs and inconvenient spooning. She isn’t worried about being polite and will traipse all over you while scream meowing, knowing that it will likely get her fed sooner. She sometimes just wants to talk, keeping her words short and garbled. One time she got sick and lost her voice – it was the sweetest week of her life. She likes to play but is often overwhelmed by the complexity of the string. It’s hard to tell if she’s dumb as a rock or half blind but both could be the source of the half second delay before she spastically swings at the passing toy. She is adamant about two things, staying on the bed (maneuvering through an entire changing of the sheets) and sitting on your lap. You don’t ever have to worry about offending her. She will always come back. Thankfully, that’s exactly what I want her to do.
Meet Hank. He’s the cat you’ve always wanted. He is mischievous. He’s handsome and svelte. He’s loving, but in the way that males are often loving…always enough to keep you on the hook but always a bit out of grasp. He rarely meows but when he does, you know it’s important. His voice is sweet. It’s a combination of rolled r’s and an ascending note from a flute. He loves to be pet, but he loves to play even more. He has significant charm and uses it to his full advantage when leading you over to his string, which he does every chance he gets. Most of all, he’s smart. He doesn’t endlessly chase the toy. He learns the toy’s pattern then waits until it comes around again before pouncing, not because he’s lazy but because he wants the optimal point of attack. He bullies his sister but comes running when she is trapped in the cat carrier. He sleeps in the crook of your knee at night, but not for too long. He has shit to do. He is important.