Just Two More Pussies...

For all you folks who are not on Facebook--you know who you are (Mom!)--the people that get a Facebook account, say "Hi!" twice in six months, delete your account, and then wonder what's going on in people's lives...?

Uh-huh. Don't deny it.

Anyway, we've recently become father's again:



Rio and Puck, brothers by birth and by havoc wreaked, came to us after their previous owner's dog tore through a basement door in an attempt to kill them (no one ever claimed dogs were a cat's best friend--I suppose now we know why...). And while they have managed to get into both Beaux's and Hawthorne's good graces with much less effort than I thought it would require, given their history with other animals, their capacity for all things destruction-oriented makes me think it's just my calling in life.

Having a calm, quiet, content animal, that is. But then again, I hear pet's do tend to take after their owners, and in that, I have no defense. (I can't help but wonder, though, if owner's just tend to pick animals with personalities much like their own...?)

While Rich likes to think I agreed to the name "Rio" for the long-haired orange cat in due respect and reverence for the dearly-departed River Phoenix (as if...), I mainly agreed because Rio is just like a river, with his rippling waves of fur, his rapid switches from calm and serene to all-out attack. It's a fitting yet cursed name, yes?

And then there's Puck, the medium-haired, cross-eyed, frock-wearing-wanna-be-Catholic scaredy cat. You breathe to hard and he leaps up like a deer and dashes off like a cheetah. He's loves-loves-LOVES to cuddle (until you breath...), so I thought a proper fairy-tale name was more suitable--you know, easily frightened yet full of love? Regardless of the fact that I completely forgot what a trouble-maker Puck was in literature, I certainly didn't expect Puck to know that. However, he can't seem to help himself, and thus he is aptly named after all. Climbing window screens, leaping on his brother, attacking Beaux, having stand-offs with the 60-pound half-pit Hawthorne... One can't help but wonder if it's the crossed eyes or just his attitude...

Be that as it may, we are now a 3-pussy household consisting only of dicks...

Go figure, as my father would say...

And in my defense, all I can say is at least this time, I wasn't expecting any girl cats...




Just two more pussies...