Sometimes,
they won’t stay in bed with Peggy and me for our morning cuddle, but as soon as
we get out, they get in.
They enjoy killing houseplants, and I have forty houseplants.
At
nearly nine months of age, Ollie is still “nursing” on Brewsky, which would be
bad enough even if he didn’t slurp.
The trust of a cat seems tenuous compared to the trust of a dog.
They sometimes duck and run when I try to pet them.
They roughhouse with one another, but they won’t roughhouse with me.
Things I love about having cats:
They usually stay in bed with us
while Peggy and I are having our morning cuddle. First, they bathe one
another—often at the same time—and then they nap with their legs and tails
entwined.
Brewsky lies on his back and
stretches his legs straight out when he wants to be petted.
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Brewsky has spots on his stomach, and his stripes show perfect symmetry.
Watching them roughhouse. They’re so rough that it
worries Peggy, but I’ve come to trust that, despite their screams, they’re not murdering one another.
Their loud and beautiful purrs.
The sweetness of having Brewsky press his face into my side
at the vet’s.
Ollie’s best feature is that his nose and mouth pooches out,
and Brewsky’s best feature is his large eyes.
They’re self-cleaning.
They’re self-cleaning.
Brewsky likes to lie with his front legs crossed, and Ollie
likes to sit with his front legs draped over the left arm of an office chair.
When we got Ollie last October, he was three months old and
weighed less than three pounds. Brewsky was five years old, weighed 15-pounds,
and was an indoor cat who hadn’t lived with other cats. Ignoring the book
advice about gradual introductions, we put Ollie’s kennel on the
kitchen floor and opened the door. He immediately ran up to Brewsky and
started smelling him from bow to stern while Brewsky looked like he didn’t know
whether to run away or kill a kitten. After a long moment, he performed his own odor
exam, and then started bathing Ollie. Peggy and I were almost too joyous to
contain ourselves because we knew that living with two cats was going to be
good.
They’re happy being indoor cats
because that’s all they’ve never known. (Outdoor cats are devastating to
wildlife, and their lifespan is half that of indoor cats.)
Ollie is still a house-wrecking
teenager, but Brewsky is so considerate that I can’t remember the last time I
had a problem with him. Ah, but when he was an adolescent, he was willful, sneaky,
and stubborn. He would also ambush Peggy and bite her legs hard enough to
draw blood. Since we had previously been dog people, we didn’t know but what
he would always be that way.
When I’m having my computer time in the morning, I pull
Peggy’s chair next to mine and put my bed pillow in it so Ollie can nap beside
me. The problem is that he likes to write, so he’ll get in my lap, look at the
monitor (he’s a touch typist), and start writing indecipherable doggerel.
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Ollie is a small cat with a comically long tail, and I love that
tail. I also love looking at four pointed ears when he and Brewsky are
cuddling.
Cats, like dogs, are forgiving creatures. For example, when I step on their tails, or worse yet, their feet, they might run a few feet, but they stop to be comforted when I call them.
Last night, Peggy and I watched a National Geographic documentary about cats, and our cats took such an interest in the show that they watched much of it with us.
I’m both saddened and touched by how much they miss me when I'm gone. Unfortunately for Peggy, this means that Ollie cries and jumps on her back. Twice, when she and I were away overnight, Brewsky knocked the same peace lily off the refrigerator.
Last night, Peggy and I watched a National Geographic documentary about cats, and our cats took such an interest in the show that they watched much of it with us.
I’m both saddened and touched by how much they miss me when I'm gone. Unfortunately for Peggy, this means that Ollie cries and jumps on her back. Twice, when she and I were away overnight, Brewsky knocked the same peace lily off the refrigerator.
Just as my cats miss me, I miss them. Even when we’re apart
for a few hours, I look forward to them greeting me at the door when I come
home. If cats were really as aloof as they’re portrayed, I wouldn’t want cats.
When something frightens Brewsky, he looks into my face for
reassurance. He and I have a very strong bond, while my bond with Ollie is
still growing. For example, a few days ago, Ollie jumped for a shelf, but only
his front legs reached it, so as he hung there in wide-eyed desperation,
I gently lifted him onto the shelf and petted him. It was partially the
accumulation of such acts that bonded Brewsky to me. Dogs just naturally trust
people, but it takes effort with a cat.
Ollie is still young enough that he likes to help me
with handyman projects. I consider this an utter delight unless it’s a painting
project.
I love listening to the sound of running feet when the cats
chase one another through the house at night.
Peggy is phobic of spiders, and the cats like to kill spiders (much to Peggy’s displeasure, they also like to dismember them).
Peggy is phobic of spiders, and the cats like to kill spiders (much to Peggy’s displeasure, they also like to dismember them).
I never have to take my cats walking in the Oregon drizzle,
and they would think I had lost my mind if I tried.
Ollie often makes things go bump in the night, and Peggy and
I get to figure out what he “bumped” (she would put this
under hates rather than loves).
Brewsky's every emotion is written on his face. What a joy to be with a creature who's completely present and totally open!
Brewsky's every emotion is written on his face. What a joy to be with a creature who's completely present and totally open!
I love it that the four of us make a happy family in which
everyone is devoted to everyone else.