I probably have too many cats.
I grew up in a home that was extremely (com)passionate about animals. We always had dogs of varying breeds when we were growing up (My parents were/are involved in dog clubs/dog shows on many levels – confirmation, obedience, tracking. Breeding, showing, grooming – you name it they were involved.) When we were growing up they had a slew of Basenjis and English Cockers, and one big, sweet Doberman named Rowdy. When they retired their dogs got a bit smaller and easier for them to cart around – Cavalier King Charles Spaniels and a tiny, little Papillion my Mom calls ‘the Gerbil’. Total dog-land.
My sister had a cat. A big, old orange tabby named Mike. She got him when she was two and he lived for what seemed like forever. He never really liked me…I always thought he was a bit of a crank. Rumour has it, he was a sweet, old thing. I’m pretty sure he hated my guts.
I always wanted my own cat, but never got one…so the second I moved into an apartment that allowed cats, I got two.
My first two cats were sisters….named after Grace Kelly and Greta Garbo. (I was going through the ‘look at me, I’m so cultured and unique I watch old movies’ phase that everyone goes through in University.) At the time I was going through a bit of a Pixies stage too and they are lucky they weren’t named Un chien and Andalou. (Which come to think of it would have been GREAT cat names at the time!)
Sadly, Miss Grace passed away when she was seven, but her sister Greta lived to be a sweet sixteen.
She was a great friend and stuck beside me through a LOT of crazy life things. After she passed away on a freezing cold day in November 2010 (and a few months had passed) the stillness in my house started to drive me insane. I decided to get another cat. I found a cute trio of kittens advertised on Kijiji in a city about an hour away…one was the spitting image of Greta and I needed her.
My problem was three-fold. Could I get another cat that looked exactly like my first cat? Was that creepy and morbid? Also…could I get just one? Would she be lonely? Would she need a pal? And finally – how could I POSSIBLY break up sisters? Letting two come live in the best cat home on the planet, leaving one poor little kitty behind.
So this happened:
I took all three. Why not, right?
And then I did the DUMBEST THING. I named them all after spices. That start with the letter “S”.
So now I have three adorable cats running amok in my place, named Sage, Savoury and Saffron. And I can never really keep them straight.
If one is doing something bad, stupid (or sometimes dangerous) I usually find myself hissing a ‘sssssssss’ sound at them as I try to remember what the heck her name is. (That’s actually not true. I love them very much. They are my constant companions and the sweetest, friendliest cats I’ve ever met.)
So. in no particular order, I’d like to introduce you to:
The smartest cat ever. She crinkles up her nose when she meows at you and you can actually watch her think. She’s the most adventurous of the three. When she doesn’t make eye contact with you, she’s planning something devious. Watch out.
My little clown. She is an acrobat and a love-bug. She will physically throw herself toward you for a cuddle or two. She’s inquisitive and quiet. She rarely makes a peep. I like to pinch her butt to see if she gets mad. She doesn’t.
A fancy and proper lady. She tiptoes around with grace and dignity. If she had hands, she’d probably wear gloves. And have a butler. When she wants a hug, SHE WANTS A HUG. And, please rub her tummy. NOW.
Take a peek through my photos and see if you can see a sneaky, spicy cat sniffing around. Chances are they’ll be there somewhere.
See you next time around.