Cats in my life, in order of appearance:

Pink Ears: my first stuffed animal. A white cat with, surprisingly, pink
ears.

Chablis: my uncles’ cat who lived to be 21 years old. She started out
nasty, but once she hit 18 or so, she mellowed out; I guess old age
softened her disposition. Wish it had done the same for my grandmother.

Mariah and Fur Beast: Chablis’ children. All I remember of them are eyes
shining out from under tables, chairs, sofas, or beds. I might have seen
a tail once.

Bonnie: my cat growing up. She learned how to come when called, how to sit
on command, and what “roll over and I’ll scratch your tummy” meant. She
also liked to jump straight up walls and turn lights on and off, especially
while I was doing my homework. When our dog would bark at 5am, we assumed
it was because she had to be walked. Once Bonnie died, we realized she had
been tormenting the dog to wake us up and get breakfast; the dog then slept
till 9 or 10.

Sam: my friend Devin’s cat. He would sit by the back door and curse the
weather.

Miles and Mose: Devin’s next cats. Miles hid. Mose destroyed. (Mose
lives with Devin’s mom now. He’s getting old and has started meowing
really loud; Devin’s mom thinks it’s because he’s going deaf. I think it’s
because he thinks she’s going deaf.)
Miles:

Mose:


Chooch: Devin’s cat at his dad’s house. A quality cat. He caught snakes
which Devin would have to dispose of. His stepmother loved that.

Quiver: Peat’s cat. When I moved in with Peat, I adopted Quiver as my own.
He was stand-offish at first, but I was training him to be a lap cat. He
would pull the bedroom door open and run in, knowing full well it was
out-of-bounds for him. He liked to attack feet and would make the only
sounds he ever uttered right before he pounced, a sort of squeaky
abbreviated meow, more “me-” than “ow”.
Baby Quiver:

Grown up Quiver:


Buddy: the Pickytarian’s cat. He stayed with us for a while when the
Pickytarian and his wife went on vacation. He and Quiver would wrestle.

Pouncer: Peat’s mom’s cat. She’s huge. (the cat, not Peat’s mom) We call
her “Pounder”.

Mugsy: Peat’s sister Kelly’s cat. He used to hide all the time, but now
he’s living up to his name. He causes trouble and torments Pouncer. He’s
a big palooka.

Guadeloupe: Kelly’s other cat. We call him “coffee stain” because of the
marking on his face. Kelly hates that.


Jinx: On Friday the 13th this past May, Peat and I adopted a 2-month-old
black kitten and named her Jinx. She had been abandoned near an animal
hospital, and they took her in and bottle-fed her since she was too young
to feed herself. Devin calls her “Bitey”.
She bites feet, bare or otherwise. She bites ankles and shins and calves.
She bites hands, and if you pick her up, she’ll gnaw on your arms and
shoulder and bite your face and ears and nose. She bites books and table
legs and remote controls and cardboard boxes and her basket bed. She even
lies on her back and gnaws on the bottom of the stainless steel dishwasher
and refrigerator! She gnaws on everything. She gnaws so much, my
mother-in-law bought her a dog bone to chew on. She loves it. Tomorrow is
her 2-month anniversary of being adopted.
Baby Jinx:

Slightly older Jinx:



But when she’s not biting us, she likes to sleep on us:




If only she was always that cute and peaceful. Sigh.