I took these photos this morning from our master bedroom window. We have two kitty towers sitting in front of the window to allow the kitties to lounge and enjoy the view of the bird feeders in the garden.
Olly, the Brave one
Olly is our oldest kitty, and my first real pet. He was born July 20, 1999 in Burlington, Massachusetts. His breed is a Turkish Angora. I adopted him at a pet store in the Burlington Mall. I brought him home before Andrew moved in with me, so technically he was the first man in my life. (He and Andrew have been duking it out ever since.) He’s not afraid of anything. Olly would run into a burning building to save me; I’m sure of it. He is obnoxious and cunning, devious and loving all wrapped up in the same bundle of fur. His favorite thing to do is to find and eat plastic and rubber bands. His favorite food is ziploc, shopping and bread bags. Olly loves for me to carry him around the house so he can look at everything from above. Olly bonded with me from the very beginning. He has a very instinctive knowledge of when I am upset, and tends to try to comfort me if I’ve been crying or if he can sense I am stressed out. He’s a true Masshole with a soft spot, deep down somewhere inside.
Cheetoe, the Companion
Cheetoe is the companion kitty, meant to keep Olly company. He is definitely Andrew’s cat. We adopted Cheetoe, an American Shorthair, from the Petco in Gilbert. He was born April 1, 2001. Cheetoe is dumber than a brick, but so adorable you can’t help but love him. He chases his own tail in circles on the bed and sometimes in the living room floor. He loves to hunt. He once brought a live bird inside the house and presented it to Andrew as a token of his love. Cheetoe probably couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to, although he is the most like a tom cat of the bunch. He’s such a good kitty. He loves to be scratched all over and rough-housed. Cheetoe doesn’t like to be held, but he loves to lay on your lap and snuggle. Cheetoe gives “hugs” when he snuggles – he puts one arm on either side of your neck and nuzzles his face into your chest.
Tumbleweed, the Dictator
Tumbleweed is our dictator, and I mean that in more ways than one. We adopted Tumbleweed from a pet store in Mesa. He was born April 1, 2003. He was living with about 30 barking dogs and was meowing so loudly and was so agitated that we felt sorry for him and brought him home. Unfortunately, he never stopped meowing. In fact, he rarely shuts up at all. Tumbles is a Bermilla, which is a cross between a Siamese and a Bermese breed. He likes to think he is the dominant Alpha male of the house. He tries to put all the other cats in their place by hissing, pouncing and bad-assing his way around the house. Unfortunately for Tumbles, the other kitties are not fooled by his shennanigans. They all know Olly is the Alpha. Tumbleweed’s favorite passtime is carrying his favorite Kong toys around in his mouth and placing them in the food and water bowls. He also enjoys laying flat on his back spread eagle on the living room floor, watching Andrew and I while we watch television. It’s a little creepy. Did I mention he never shuts up? NEVER.
Lucky, the Sweetheart
Lucky is our sweetheart kitty. Andrew often says it took us four tries, but we finally got it right. We adopted Lucky from the local Petsmart as a 30th birthday gift for me. He was born May 14, 2007 in Gilbert, Arizona. An American Shorthair, Lucky was chosen because of his friendly demeanor and his beautiful black shiny coat of fur. Ironically he is not black; he is a solid shade of dark cocoa brown. Lucky is a beautiful, sleek athletic cat who loves his belly rubbed. He climbs on your lap and cozies in, then flips over and demands your full attention and both hands to rub, rub rub his belly for hours. He never tires of having his belly rubbed. Lucky loves to play with the laser pointer. He is often observed cleaning the other kitties and snuggling with them, sometimes butt-to-butt on the back of the couch. Lucky is also the definition of a Scaredy Cat; he is literally afraid of everything. He’s scared of his own shadow. He’s scared of every noise in the house. If one of us sneezes, his tail instantly puffs up like a pipe cleaner. He even scares himself when he farts, and he runs into the other room until he thinks it is safe to come back out. That’s our Lucky, the sweetest, most frightened non-black cat you’ll ever meet.
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