I generally don't talk about my cats very much because a) they're usually in some state of disgrace and b) I don't want you guys to know exactly what kind of crazy cat people we are. Because? We really really are.

First, an introduction to our clan:

Zephyr:

Zephyr is our oldest lady and she's a small grey stripy tabby. We usually call her Stripes because why would you call a cat by it's actually name? (Except for Stella because we want to live.) Stripes was the first cat I adopted as an adult and she was one of a pair of stray kittens who were living under the apartment building my sister lived in at the time. I adopted her when she was six months old which is crazy because she is just a liddle bit feral. Oh well! She's a sweet cat and smart as a whip and won't let you get away with anything. Her favorite hobby is sitting on the opposite counter while I'm cooking dinner and swiping at me every time I walk by until I give her some cheese. (She likes the cheese.)

She's the one with hyperthyroid and she gets three tasty servings of pill a day disguised with disgusting wet food that she adores. Yes, we crush her pills up in wet food three times a day because WE'RE SUCKERS. Kenny and I often adopt the voice of the cats, so one of us will ask her, "Stripes! How was your pill!" and the answer is always, "It was deeelicious!"

Dido:

Dido is our next lady and we call her Fuzz. She's mostly-Siamese and I adopted Fuzz sight unseen when she was a tiny, tiny little ball of fluff. She is now quite large and is our luxury-model cat. If Zephyr is a Miata, Fuzz would be a pimp Cadillac. She is very food-driven and has been known to steal a whole Oreo (her food of choice) out of Kenny's hand. They say that cats can't taste sweet, but that is NOT TRUE. Fuzz will knock your ass over for anything resembling sugar. She's also decided that my lap is where she wants to be most of the time and she's pretty jealous of my jewelry making tray.

Fuzz is also, despite her sweet face, a bully. She uses her extra weight to push the other cats around and loves nothing more than to back Stella in a corner. Hey, it's her life.

Oh, Stella:

Stella is the baby of the clan. I adopted her a few weeks after Kenny and I got married in 2000. I had the pick of the litter and I picked her because she was the prettiest. This is NOT A GOOD WAY TO PICK A KITTEN. The drive home down 95 was hilarious - I had a tiny, angry black kitten clinging to the headrest and screaming her head off. Wow. It turns out I managed to adopt the biggest drama queen the cat world has ever produced. Stella is the kind of cat that people who don't like cats associate with why they don't like cats. Seriously, she's picky, touchy, standoffish, snappy, and occasionally, irrationally, very sweet when it suits her. If it doesn't suit her? She will cut a bitch. I somehow adopted Kimora Lee Simmons in cat form, no lie.

Example: The other night she deigned to curl up in my lap but apparently I was moving around too much because she squinted at me with one evil yellow eye and growled low in her throat. I held dead still after that because I didn't want to die. The window of time between Content Stella and Evil Stella is very, very narrow and I have learned the hard way not to stick my hand in that window.

But, she has a sweet side and will be your BFF if you give her grilled tuna steak. Not tuna-flavored cat food, not tuna from a can but real tuna. It's all she likes and she pretty much thinks all other human food is beneath contempt. Nice attitude considering she doesn't even have a damn job.

But, despite the fact that the cats rule our lives and eat our food and don't earn their keep, we get our fun out of them. We have a new game we just started playing and if PETA ever caught wind of it they'd be on us in a second.

We like to call it Cat Hold'em, or, Kenny's brilliant name: Cat Scrap Fever. God, we�re incredibly clever, aren't we? Anyway, here�s how to play: Each person picks a cat and holds it in their arms. If the cat is squirmy or pissed off it�s even better. Sloowwwly move the cats towards each other until they�re face to face. Continue to make sure the cats are directly in each other's faces (because cats love that.) Whoever�s cat gets bopped in the face first, loses. HOURS OF FUN.

Note: it helps to have a good selection of cats to chose from - thus when you issue a challenge you can say �CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON� and both lunge for the crankiest animal. I won a vicious battle last night by bravely picking Stella, who doesn't ever like to be held. In one crazy flip of the paw she bopped Fuzz and then came back around for my throat. I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING. I put her down right quick before declaring myself the champion.

We are truly horrible people.

8 chatty monkeys