Monday, December 09, 2002
As I've said, I have five cats. The youngest, Oscar, is long, slim, sleek, and all-black. Bart is about three and is a stocky, muscular, red-tabby and white little cat who is not too smart but who is very affectionate. Lisa is a dark gray tabby with a white front and a high, squeaky voice. We found all three of them as kittens. Chang and Eng, the Siamese twins, found us; they lived on top of a roof below our back window in the last place we lived, and they sort of invited themselves in back in '96. They were already adults; the way to tell them apart is that Chang only has one-third of a tail and has crossed eyes. He also drools. A couple of minutes ago I walked into the kitchen, where Chang was sitting at my head level on top of the microwave, which is on top of the fridge. I went over to him and he proceeded to happily bump and rub his head against mine; this behavior is cat language for "I am content and I like you. Pet me." Then--and I saw it coming--he shook his head fast like a wet dog does. Cat drool all over my face. Yecch.