Monday, June 25, 2007

"Now We Have Lots of Animals!"

We adopted two cats yesterday. Or more accurately, two cats and a balloon unicorn. I'll focus on the cats. We'd been down to one cat since January when Pippa T. Cat passed away on my birthday. Our surviving cat, Syren is almost 19 and has dementia. She needs Metamucil and pees on the rug half the time. She spends most of her day either sleeping or scavenging food off our plates. I think Gwen is a little scared of her. The two newcomers have adapted nicely. Having lived with surly old cats for so long kittens are a shock. They play with toys! They explore! They crave love and attention! They run! They poop in the litter box!

This is Daisy Dumont. She walked out of the carrier as if she's lived here for years. She's about four months old and very sweet. She already sits on our laps.

This is Cleopatra. Her tail was pretty badly mangled when she was younger. She's ten months old and looks like Syren but is bigger. It took her a little while to get used to the apartment but now she's very comfortable and loves to play with cat toys. She's already using the Litter Robot!

The Litter Robot is a self-cleaning cat box that the other cats never took to. I thought it would be an improvement ofn the Litter Maid which broke every few months. Syren never used it and Pippa would sit with her butt hanging out and poop down the front.

I used to have this theory One Cat, Two Cats, Three Cats that applied the number of cats you owned to the level of your personal interests.

I own one cat was a casual fan, sort of a mild social identifier ("I like the Fantastic Four", "I root for the Mets").

I own two cats equalled a strong interest, entertaining but not threatening to others. ("I love the FF. Check out my Marvel Masterworks", "I have weekend season tickets to the Mets").

I own three cats meant you were a fanatic and a bit off-putting. ("I'm casting my own figurines of the first coming of Galactus because the Franklin Mint ones suck", "I'm hosting a Mets trivia contest in Patchogue Tuesday night, can you drive me?").

Anyway, three cats isn't as crazy as I thought it would be or else I've become immune to my own craziness.

1 comment:

The Wife said...

BTW, the blow-up unicorn bit it this weekend...