My Boys

One of Zampa's many funny poses




"Oh, the agony of being this cute"

It's hard working on a sunny days like today when all I can focus on around me are my cats, cuddling up together and lazing in sunbeams, looking way too cute. I know I sound like the proud mom, but I think I have the cutest boys! Sure, they're a bit hairy and they sometimes drive me crazy, but all told I just love them to bits! The black one is Tut, short for King Tut, since King is his last name. Zampa (rhymes with Grandpa) is the gray one. Zampa is the Italian word for paw - he has six toes on each one. When we first brought him home, my hubby said it looked like he was walking around on catchers mitts! He is a sweetheart, though, and will knead and nuzzle for hours.

Tut is more the independent soul, not cuddling unless it is on his own terms. When he gets in trouble (which is more often than I'll admit to my husband) he twists around, backside facing me now, with his head looking back, then falls just slightly to the side and somehow up. The closest way to describe it is a flip standing still, so that he lands on his head and meows. It's not his normal meow, but one that is slightly shorter in length and higher in pitch. With his upside-down head cocked to the side and this short "see me?" phrase, how can I stay mad? I can see him in a past life as Scarlet O'Hara, eyes wide, eyelids batting, and playing the part of the innocent one.

Even though I know better, I can't help but give in to scratching his chin, forcing his nose further back and closer to the carpet where the top of his head rests. My sister claims he is the devil incarnate, having nicknamed him "Evil One". It seems every time that I try to chide her, Tut chooses that very moment to act out more of his antics, jumping up to the counter top or burrowing deep into the freshly washed and tumble-dried laundry. There are little post-it notes of black hair everywhere now, and no amount of vacuuming or brushing of the cat seems to do much good. The vacuum is simply a displacement tool, used to suck the hair in from one spot and then ably blow it out in another. I keep saving for a new vacuum cleaner, but so far both the old vacuum and the hair have been permanent fixtures.

Every once in a while I'll take the cats outside on their leashes. Yes, I walk both of my cats; we are fully equiped with leashes, harnesses and thankfully lacking in the need for pooper-scooper bags. Although they are frequently posted right next to the door and will bolt to it if anyone moves slightly in that direction. However, if you actually open then door for them to go for a walk, they only peer from around the corner of the door, safely tucked inside their home, ready to turn tail and run under whatever they come to first. I kept them in the cab with me while driving the moving van from Seattle to Southern California and tried to let them out at rest stops periodically (on their leashes, of course). When we would take them out, they would slowly scoot along the ground, bellies dragging like soldiers in training going under barbed wire. I don't know if it was the leashes or just being in an unknown world, but I don't think they peed for the entire three-day trip.