We have four, as you know. They are each very different from one another, but each very, very strange.
Lilly, our elder, is almost fourteen and has some chronic health issues. We call her "Darth Vadar" because of the way she sounds. She does some typical Maine Coon things, like scooping up food and water into her paw and using it like a spoon. She also gets carried away sometimes and begins splashing in the water until the floor and her face and chest are drenched.
She also loves potatoes to the point if I am serving mashed potatoes or potato salad in particular, she will circle the table, bellowing at the top of her considerable lungs until she is fed.
Maine Coons are also famous for their chirps and trills instead of meows, and we also call her a Wookie because of the sounds she makes.
And she snores like a bumble bee buzzes.
Next is Frost. Frost is exactly twice the weight he should be. When we rescued him from the shelter he was svelte. He'd also not been fed enough for a while, so when we brought him home he clearly had an eating disorder (I ain't kidding). He would be in a deep sleep, suddenly jump up and run to his food dish in a panic, just to make sure there was food available. And he took advantage of it, so like he's a pig like cat. The vet says she has one of those, too, and there isn't much you can do when you have multiple cats - especially if you still have growing cats, as we do.
Frost also worships Husband. If Husband goes out the door at night (when he walked Molly before bedtime), Frost would hop up on the sewing machine, part the blinds with his paw, and cry pitifully until Husband came back in. He follows him around a lot, interested in anything Husband might be doing.
He likes to play "slaps" with Daughter - he lies on his side, she puts her hand out, and tries to withdraw it before he can slap at it with his paws. If they play too long he wins regardless because he bites her.
He nurses and kneads fuzzy blankets, but is embarassed if he gets caught.
At the vet, he is a holy terror. They tell me when Frost has a vet appointment, the office goes on "high alert". He growls, he spits, he backs up, he threatens, he bites, he fights. When he had a kidney infection they wanted a urine sample. So they put him in the kennel for the day. They were about to close, so they called and said he refused to urinate, we might as well come get him.
When we arrived, the vet tech got him out of the kennel to put him back in his carrier, and he promptly peed all over her. Let's just say there ain't no love lost between the staff and our cat.
Then we have Mimi. Or rather, Daughter has Mimi. She is a torti colored mix, the kind of cat who looks long haired but doesn't have tangles and such. She is dumb as a box of rocks.
She is also clumsy, which doesn't become a cat - but she starts to jump up on stuff and misses, she lies on the edge of the bed, rolling around and thump, there she goes off into the floor. She never learns. She has a high pitched squeak that turns into a croak every fall when her allergies act up.
She's also very skittish. At the least little noise or movement, she jumps a mile.
Lastly, is my boy, Eli. When we brought Eli home he was a two month old, two pound kitten. The first night he crawled into bed with me, snuggled up against my neck and went to sleep. He still does that, four years later, except the only thing that fits up against my neck is his head. He wakes me up purring sometimes. I will wake up on my side, and he'll be lying the whole length of my torso, and then some. I don't know how long he is because he's afraid of the tape measure (go figure). But he is weighing in at almost twenty pounds, and still growing for a year or so. Lord, help us.
He is the alpha cat (and has been since he walked in). At two pounds, he sauntered up to the food dish, made a teeny tiny noise, and the adult cats ran away. I kid you not.
He still has a teeny tiny voice, which is comical, but the other cats don't see anything funny about it. They growl, hiss and run when he "talks" to them. It sounds sweet, but apparently is anything but.
I call him my "white shadow" because he thinks he has to be wherever I am. He's even gotten in the shower with me a few times. He sits toward the back of the tub and blinks while he gets misted.
He comes when I whistle, he loves to play catch and chase. Maybe he thinks he's a small dog.
So, there you have it. This is the circus we live in.
Pray for us.
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