My husband and I have had several cats over the years. Probably more than thirty. They come and go. We have three currently; Pickle, Piper, and Pennington.
Piper is the oldest, we’ve had her roughly nine years. She’s afraid of everything. Balloons, shadows, loud noises, knocks on the door, sneezes, coughs, and mostly Pickle. She’s had a few litters of kittens over the years, and tends to favor Tim during childbirth, but most of the time she’s a daddy’s girl (me). She’s the mother of Pennington. She hides most of the day unless I’m home. She likes to be close to me when I’m home. She also has a sensitive stomach. She gets pukey when we change her food, or if she eats to fast, or if she feels that someone may be watching her eat. She’s an odd cat.
Pickle we have had about four years, unsure of how old she was at the time. Another cat we had was chasing some people down the street and we went to get him and Pickle followed us home. She is in no way my cat. She likes Tim and Tim only. She tolerates me if I have food or something she wants, but tolerates may be too strong a word for it. She’s obviously the dominant cat in our household.
Pennington is special. She’s Piper’s daughter, about three and a half years old. She has kitty seizures, so she’s medicated every night. She is fat and lazy, and sleeps more than any cat I’ve ever seen. But about midnight every night when it is time to drug her, she sure will let you know what time it is. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or the treat I give her after she takes it, but she seems to know what time it is. Not that she seems to know much else….
Those are our cats (kids). They are amusing, annoying, and ornery…but they are ours.