Speaking of Cats

For as long as I can remember, we've been cat people. And even though I probably can't remember all the cats we've owned over the years, I do remember a few.

There was BC, which stood for Bad Cat. I don't remember what the poor thing's real name was, I just know BC took after her owner, BT (Bad Teeter).

And then there was Cotton, the sweetest kitty we had during the same time BC was destroying the place. (I say that like I actually remember. I don't, but it sounds convincing.)

A few years later, there was Sushi, named by my step-sister. Amber was always giving our pets odd names. Once she named a goldfish Justice and then The Attorney named her precious 4th child after it. (That's right, Justice, you were named after a fish.)

When Hubs and I ran away to Monterey, it wasn't long before we decided there was something missing from our lives. A cat. Hubs is good cat people, too.

As it turned out, his mom was more than willing to give up her rights to the family pet. So old Annie Fat Cat made the traumatizing trip from the OC. To say the least, she was not a good traveler. She was fat and hot and meowed the entire 6-hour journey (or so I've heard every time my mother-in-law wants to make me feel guilty).

Once in Monterey, she happily settled in. Well, "happily" might be a stretch. But she settled in.

That is, until the day Luke arrived.

When Annie came to reside with us, she was already an adult. And, although we loved her unconditionally (except for those times she missed the litter box) the idea of having a kitten started to tug at me.

Two years after Annie, I found Luke. He was the last of a litter to find a home and was hiding behind a sofa, trying to get away from two child terrorists. I knew it was up to me to rescue him. And on the drive home, he curled up in my lap and slept. I was in love.

We never expected that just a week later we'd find ourselves with a third. Enter Mercedes.

Mercedes had been adopted by a woman we worked with. When her husband was relocated they knew they wouldn't be able to take her along. So, being the generous and kind-hearted people we are, we offered to provide a home for her.

And then there were three. And poor Annie was hating life. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with either of the two new additions and avoided them like the plague. However, Luke and Mercedes were two peas in a pod from the very beginning. They were best buds. Kindred spirits. Brothers from another mother... er, brother and sister from another mother? You get my point.

As soon as Mercedes felt comfortable enough to come out of hiding, they were inseparable. Of course, Luke just wanted to be friends with anyone.

Eventually, Annie came to tolerate the two young'uns. I wouldn't say they were friends exactly, but she finally stopped hissing at them when they'd pass by. Sadly, at sixteen years old, at the end of her long food-filled life, we had to make the difficult decision to lay her to rest and it's been just the two kids ever since.

Sometimes I ask Hubs if we can get another kitten. He says we can if we get rid of our other two. He's a cruel and heartless monster and I know, deep down, he would never give up his "dog," Mercedes.

Besides, who could resist these two?

Luke is on the left, Mercedes the right.

There you go, folks... our "kids."