After my earlier post today, I realized that I hadn't ever introduced three of the four rulers of the house.
My bad. So sorry.
It's been one of those years - the kind where I intend to do so much and then get distracted by other things. "Other things" were, mostly: a broken nose while on vacation in India and the resulting rhinoplasty, with all the accompanying pain and discomfort. Oh, and food. I've been busy in the kitchen.
Anyway. The Rulers of the House:
I quickly set about looking for a companion for him. My intent was to adopt one female, preferably a little calico.
Yeah. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?
My hell came in the form of two brothers: Pumbaa and Timon. Both are an inky black with white stars on their chests. Both have their own little quirks that make them uniquely... feline (recall that I live in a realm where 'feline' can often be used in place of 'annoying').
I thought long and hard about adopting 'twins'; it wasn't just that they looked alike, it was that (1) they both looked like AJ, if AJ had taken steroids as a kitten; and (2) there's two of them, meaning that I'd have three cats. Two cats in a house is good; three? eeh, gods, that's a lot of kitty. But... other factors weighed in the twins' favor: they were oh-so-cuddly and purry when I met them at PetCo; they were the same size, roughly, as Bug, so they'd make great companions for him; there'd be one cat to keep Bug company and one cat to keep me company. Plus, I know that black animals, particularly black animals that are no longer puppies or kittens, are really difficult to adopt out. In other words, I knew that those twins had less of a chance of being adopted than any of the other cats I was considering. I'm a sucker for the sad story.
Pumbaa tries to be the King of the house. Bug, Timon and I placate him and let him pretend he rules us. In reality, everyone in the house knows that the hierarchy is as follows:
Who is Kohana? Oh, yes. The little princess of the house. Shortly after adopting Pumbaa and Timon, I realized that I had room to foster a kitten for the rescue I'd adopted the twins from. We had a tiny little kitten named Sophie stay with us. She was absolutely precious - and fearless. She'd get up on her hind legs, front paws splayed, and run at the boys. This was her way to initiate play with the boys. Now... one boy outweighed Sophie by at least twelve pounds; the other two by fourteen pounds, but that didn't daunt her. No, no, she'd go after them and Pumbaa would run away from her. Being such a great little kitten, Sophie was quickly adopted and the house returned to just the three boys and me.
Soon, though, the rescue asked if I could foster 'Chrissy'. Chrissy had been adopted, but the adopter decided, after just a couple of weeks, that Chrissy wasn't enough of a 'velcro' kitty for her taste. As a result, Chrissy went back into the system and came to stay with me. At first, she was a stand-offish little girl with me; with the boys, she was good. All four of them would play together. It took a little while, but she eventually warmed up to me (probably because I ignored her - I'm one of those horrible servants who has to be constantly reminded of her duties by the cats).
She went to the rescue's adoption events a couple of times. The first time was okay. The second... was terrible. At home without her, you'd have thought I had killed the boys' best friend. All three sulked and spent time in my lap, doing various things that let me know they were unhappy. When Chrissy came home, the rescue reported that she was not a happy kitty at the event: she'd been sulky and hissy all day. It was their plan that she'd no longer go to adoption events; instead, potential adopters would meet her in my house.
Over the next few weeks, I realized that the little girl had become a princess amongst the boys - each one of them adored her in his own way. Even Pumbaa liked her! She'd developed into a lynchpin for the three. I had no choice: I had to adopt her.
So I did. And she immediately got a name change: KiokoKohana (Japanese, roughly: "happy little flower"). She doesn't photograph well - she's usually in motion. The boys all defer to her, even though she's much smaller than they are. With the feeder balls, if she noses in to eat the kibble a boy has knocked free of the ball, the boy lets her take it. Even when I was still feeding them, all three would wait patiently while she ate her fill.
And that's the household.
One more picture to share:
Jelly Bean Toes!!