The girls are siblings from the same litter. One is gray and long-haired. The other has short velvety fur, gray and white tuxedo pattern. Their personalities are very different; from the start, they disliked each other, and still do. Each nose-to-nose confrontation involves hissing and growling.

Artemis is called Misty. She looks like a pampered house cat, but no, she is the gray huntress, always bringing dead and moribund critters into the house during the wee hours of the morning (yuck). She and Jasmine the dog are best friends, two of a kind. You can hear them galloping about the house through the kitchen, up and down the stairs—first the dog chasing the cat, then turn about with the cat chasing the dog. (overture to William Tell here in the background) Two different species, so much alike.

Callie’s real name is Calliope, the Muse of Epic Poetry. In her gray and white robe, she declaims her version of the day’s events, then goes outside to bring in select leaves from the pear tree and drop them where I’m sure to step on them in my bare feet. Unlike Misty, she doesn’t like being held or sitting on laps, but she loves to be rubbed under the chin, along the jawline, between the ears. She will sit and purr and make mittens for long minutes at a time. Eventually she will jump down from the chair or bed and start rolling on her back on the carpet in sheer ecstasy. So much for dignified.

Callie won’t eat dry cat food; Misty loves it. Callie tolerates the dog; Jasmine is Misty’s best friend and soul mate. Are two cats are enough? I've been thinking of one more--a marmalade cat. Jasmine would love another boon companion, as would I.