"Treats? Gimmee!" said Samantha. (She said this by leaping straight up into the air and grabbing at the top of the bag. It must be remembered that Samantha spent part of her kittenhood among middle school boys who encouraged this sort of doggy manners--until she got big enough for the playful nips and scratches to hurt people.)
"Treats?" said Serena. (She said this by sitting up and giving me a junior-queen-cat look.)
"Treats? I love you I love you I love you where've you been you left us indoors far too long, don't go away any more, oh, you smell like hamburgers, did you bring me one?" said Traveller. (He said this by leaping up into my arms, rubbing against me, purring loudly, drooling, licking, and wriggling to spread as much fur as possible over my clothes. He always love-bombs me after work, but he seemed especially ecstatic yesterday because I'd gone online from McDonald's.)
"So, while the sun is shining behind the trees, can we get some recognizable snapshots of you cats showing treat appreciation, please?" I said.
"Right," said Serena. (She said this by perching on top of the carrying cage and posing as if she'd ever been taught how to pose, or seen the cheap-cell-phone camera in use, before. She has not. She is not a normal cat. At four months old, she already seems like the Ruling Queen.)
"Me too," said Traveller, bouncing onto the carrying cage. Through the cell phone camera his face showed up well against the aluminum roof of the cage. Then he realized that I was sitting down on the ground to get that nice clear picture... "A lap! A lap! Snuggle me on it! I always was a lap cat! No, don't put me back on that old cold roof, hold me on your lap! Hey, your skirt smells like hamburgers too! No, I've not finished rolling and purring and rubbing and cuddling!" He refused to pose properly. I finally got one face image that I recognized, although it's distorted. He does not have patches of white fur above his eyes. He has patches of thin black fur through which, at certain angles, in certain lights, a really shabby cell-phone camera...well...
"What was that in the shed? Oh never mind, only a cricket. You can take my picture now," said Samantha.
Compared with the other trios of cats by whom I've been owned lately--Heather, Irene, and Ivy, or Mogwai, Grayzel, and Bisquit, or Mac, Polly, and wossname their brother--these three cats are a handful of misbehavior.
Black and dark tortie cats tend to have a lot of energy. Traveller and Samantha seem to be bonding by encouraging each other to jump at things they shouldn't grab, dart into places they're not supposed to go, pull things down, and play in traffic.
Serena has a cool personality and a passion for wrestling that most people would probably read as a mean nature. She's actually a sweetheart if you understand that gentle nipping and scratching are her way of cuddling, and remembering rules and cooperating with instructions are her other way of showing affection. Still, if you define a pet as something that snuggles on your lap I don't think Serena will ever be one.
None of these cats can prove they understand words by reliably obeying commands. They're as much fun as the proverbial barrel of monkeys, and in much the same way. During this whole ten-minute photo shoot the neighbor who'd brought me home was sitting in his truck laughing. (I will admit I was also laughing.) The cats were bouncing about, racing, chasing, tagging each other, trying to grab the phone...a merry heart, and specifically the diaphragm exercise of laughing out loud (for humans), do good like a medicine, so I'm sure the photo shoot was very good for all of us.
Serena is Irene's granddaughter and has a fascinating mix of Irene's graciousness and Samantha's sass. (And Irene's mother Candice's preference for romping over cuddling.) Samantha does respond to words, in her way; she's not an obedient animal but she usually seems to know exactly what I'm talking about. Traveller at least wants to please and responds to tones of voice, if not specific words. I still miss the older generations of Serena's family...but I enjoy these cats too.
For those readers who've had to lay a beloved senior cat to rest...Heather was going on eight years old, which is old for the barn cat she theoretically was, moving in the direction of having to be the sort of mostly indoor animal my mother never wanted in the house...consider adopting a couple of bouncy-pouncy kittens. I want to emphasize "couple," even if they were born in different litters the same year. Serena's incessant chomping on my hands when I was trying to type was quite a nuisance, and apparently Trav was a similar nuisance in his original home. When they met they were obviously fascinated by each other. When Samantha and I allowed them to play together, after a period of quarantine and flea treatment, they became inseparable. As far as they're concerned, they are brother and sister. As far as I'm concerned, they're completely different from Heather, so they don't stir up memories or seem to be competing with her in my heart or anything like that. Even as a kitten Heather never acted like these three. So they're a separate experience, and great fun.
And of course, like all healthy cats, they enjoyed their treats. Thank you, Gentle Reader.
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