Leslie R. Lee wants to see pictures of the cats, so here they are.

This is Ozzie. He’s the sweetest cat ever, unless he isn’t. He altered the fingerprint on my left index finger the other day because he objected to my cutting his old flea collar off when I had finished putting the new one on. But he’s still pretty sweet. Mom’s friend asked Mom if she would take this stray cat the friend had been feeding when the friend went away on vacation. Mom agreed, thinking her cat could tolerate that for a week or two. Then the friend came back and revealed that she hadn’t meant would Mom board him, she had given him to Mom. By that time, we were all smitten with the kitten, so Mom kept him. His name was Oliver (I guess because he was an orphan? Like Oliver Twist?), but Mom called him Ozzie every time she meant to say Ollie, so now he’s Ozzy. Of course, Ozzie’s is one of our favorite stores ever anywhere, so that may have something to do with it….

This is Sweetie Pie. She has gained weight since this picture was taken. She weighs 21 pounds. Never mind how much I weigh. Sweetie Pie was a tee-ninesy kitten when she came to Mom. She is VERY sweet. She purrs like a motor boat.

This is Al, my #4 daughter’s cat. He’s 18 years old. She named him Abigail until he got old enough for us to know better, then she changed his name to Alexander. We call him Alexander Russianpants because of the fluffy fur on his hind legs. He’s a sweetie, too. He and the dog are best friends. Al lives with us because #4 daughter has never lived anywhere she could have a cat. And he and the dog would miss each other.

This is Miss Katya. She’s named after Katya from THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV because she’s just as much a PIA. Also, she’s a Russian blue. Katya fell out of the peach tree when she was a tiny kitten. She’s one of those nervous cats who skitters at any noise or quick movement. She hates other animals, but she’s an attention junkie from people. If she doesn’t stop walking across my keyboard when I’m out of the office, I’m going to kill her and have her stuffed. This is my favorite picture of her–her neurosis shows. She’s all like, “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

And, finally, there’s Joe. I already told you about Joe. I’ll just add that he’s still living, still digging, still barking. He’s about 10, and he still acts like an untutored pup. I kind of like him, though, even though he digs holes that could be dangerous to anyone driving a lawn mower on these hills. I taught him to sit and now, when he gets fussed at, he sits, because he thinks that’ll get him out of trouble.

So that’s the crew. Never a dull moment.

WRITING PROMPT: Do you have a pet? Ever had a pet? Know somebody else’s pet? Give a character a pet that is NOT a good fit. How does the character deal with that?