It's been about 8 months since we rescued our cats. They certainly have their own distinct personalities but are happy to be together most of the time.
We are not sure how old Garfield is--just that he is over five years old. Sometimes, I'm sure he's a lot older than five when he takes forever to walk down the hallway. But then, when Sox walks by and he smacks her on the nose for no apparent reason, I'm not so sure.
He gives a little 'meow' lots of times during the day for no reason I can fathom so we just call him 'Mad Uncle Jack' and try to ignore it. When he sees us, he looks at our hands, from one to the other, but never in the face. And the fact that he doesn't like closed doors is weird, but other than that, he has adjusted well.
As you can see, he loves to sleep on the bed. Any time.
As you can see, he loves to sleep on the bed. Any time.
Sox, on the other hand, doesn't sleep in the bed with us. She will jump up early in the morning but not during the night. Her favorite place is in her basket.
I love that she sleeps on her back sometimes but never long enough for me to get a photo of it. I also love it when I'm on the couch and she rubs up against me, curls around on herself and ends up half-upside down while I pet her. Sometimes, she just flops (I use that term loosely as she doesn't weigh much) up against me and falls asleep however she lands.
She's a great little mouser. And baby rabbit-er. And moth-er.
When she's laying next to me and I get up, she still startles me a bit when she grabs my clothes with her claws. She does the same thing when I pet her and stop before she thinks I should.
When I am standing at the sink or sitting on the toilet, she will sit facing away from me like a sentry and wait until I move. Strange cat.
All in all, they rule the house. I think that's the way it's suppose to be.
