A brief look at the furry members of my fam (short for family, in case you didn't know). Currently, apartment living has only allowed us (husband and myself) to adopt feline members into our family (although sometime in the future we will find a nice place that allows dogs! Somedayyyyyy!), but that's not a problem, since I'm probably a little more of a cat person than a dog person. Don't get me wrong! I absolutely adore dogs and very much want to get one (eventually two). However, my early childhood (heck, from the moment I was born and all the time since) was spent around mostly cats. I remember thinking as a kid when my parents finally went and adopted a dog, how many cats we could've gotten for the dog's purchase price (I think I figured we could've gotten 7 cats for what we spent to get the dog, but I was probably way off).
Me: "But mommmmm! If we don't get a dog, we can get seven more cats!"
Mom: "Not happening."
But we all know how cute puppies can be, and that led me to be an equal-opportunity pet-lover! For now though, it's the husband, me and our two kitties.
Named after characters from one of our favorite movies (The Goonies), we have Chester Copperpot (the large orange tabby) and Rosalita (the small grey tabby). We adopted Chester first and a few years later added Rosy to the mix.
Chester's a lot more sedate than Rosy. He's one of those cats that never seems to open his eyes all the way (always almond-shaped or squinty). It's always as if he's giving me a look that says (in a tired old man voice), "Oy, what are you crazy food-givers up to now?"
That's the look. Granted, I was taking a picture of him from under our glass table, which is a bit odd. In the awesome book "The cat who went to Paris" by Peter Gethers (required reading for all cat-lovers!), as his cat is getting all sorts of attention, author Peter describes the look as his cat thinking, "well, this is just the price I have to pay for being me."
Chester is also the master of the stiff-arm when you pick him up. *BAM! Right to your sternum. "Don't pick me up. If you must adore me, adore me on my own terms!" If you don't get the hint, he likes to dig his one snaggletooth into your arm, like this:
They never scratch or bite, but Chester gives mean snaggletooth pressure.
Rosy is the more lively, younger one who often has eyes the size of dinnerplates. If she's not sleepy, she always looks like she's thinking, "what the heck is going on here?!?" She also has her own tumbling maneuver that we've named "The Rosy Roll." Here you can see Chester being unimpressed by Rosy's floorwork.
Chester: *Sigh. What are you doing now?
And a close-up of the Rosy Roll:
She also is the first farting cat I've ever had. The vet is helping us work on that, but currently Rosy is the master of the "silent but deadly" variety.
But luckily they tolerate each other (loving each other may be a little much to ask right now, but they do play with each other and don't get in fights) and coexist peacefully. Even though they have to share the bed (you'll notice that this is also MY bed. My husband and I apparently get the top 2/3rds of it)!