Lest our current cats feel left out of the roll call, I will devote this post to them: Luna and Ravi. We've had them since August 16 of last year, at which time I expect they were about four or five months old. (I have arbitrarily given them my brother's birthday, March 15.) A Facebook friend's upstairs neighbors needed to find new homes for them, and she posted a plea. I responded. Two days later, they found themselves inside our house—in a box. Surrounded by a dog.
Or perhaps it's more accurate to say, the dog found himself surrounded by little cat-devils, his Zen-like existence forever changed.
They have been working it out ever since. With maturity has come détente—mostly.
They still get up on the kitchen counters, but more or less respond to snapped fingers. They pretty much have stopped feasting on any bread that inadvertently gets left out. They still insist on lunch. They like it best when we keep the deck door open and they can come and go as they please. The little white cat, Luna, doesn't like being outside too long in the morning, and will yell and yell and yell to be let back in if the door somehow gets closed. Both of them come when they're called (good kitties!). Ravi is a love sponge—very, very affectionate. Luna has a habit of sucking on a hind-foot toe and kneading, kneading (she was clearly plucked from her momma too soon).
When we got them, they were introduced to us as Sol and Luna: yellow sun, white moon, god and goddess. Luna was perfect; Sol I didn't care for. So I searched the internet for other names of Sun gods, and stumbled on Ravi. That suited both him and me.
Ravi is long in every way: long tail, long whiskers, long body. They said he was the runt of the litter, and she was the biggest kitten, but they've swapped places. She is petite, right down to her tiny teeth.
Ravi likes to bring us uprooted plants as offerings. Plus, there was one finch and one baby gopher. Luna mostly hangs out on my spare office chair. She also likes to burrow under blankets. She is very good about using the cardboard scratchers, but he (bad Ravi!) insists on clawing the (already destroyed) bedroom couch, and I worry every time he gets close to my nice upstairs easy chair. When I'm being diligent, they don't get to come into my office suite when I'm not around. But when I'm not diligent, and I leave for a while, guess where they come running from to greet me? Yeah, the office suite. I should be more diligent.
I love cat energy. I love their independence and fearlessness. I love their indolence. I love how they stretch out looooooong and relaaaaaaxed and give themselves over to the universe. I love their feistiness. I love that they're getting older and have begun to figure out that we don't run completely on their schedule (breakfast at 5:30? I don't think so). I love to hug them—just hold them for a good minute and exchange vibes and breaths.
Here are a whole bunch of photos of them, from their arrival until just a few days ago (but not in any order, aside from the first and the most recent).