Cat Tales

We have two cats. Cleo and Pepette. Or as I like to call them Stupid #1 and Stupid #2.

Cleo used to have a brother. Bob. But Bob got hit by a bus. Stupid is as stupid does. We got them as kittens from my stepson's father. I had several names for them. Spin and Marty. Fred and Barney. Bob and Ray. That latter was a tip of the hat to one of the funniest comedy teams I've ever come across. But I digress. Bob and Ray Cleo were the offspring of an incestuous relationship which, so I'm led to believe, happens a lot with cats. Can inbreeding cause stupidity? With Cleo I rest my case. She was born in Rouyn which must be the Ozarks of Quebec because Cleo and brother Bob had a litter of their own. We gave them away. Hey, I said the cats were stupid, not their owners.

Pepette was found in an animal shelter by my wife and her son. She's about 150 in people years. In fact she moves like I do...slowly. We often compare notes on our arthritis. Mrs Noname says back in BNN (Before Noname) they called the cat Pepette because she didn't want to holler the first name they gave it when the cat was outside: Fleurette. Oh, yeah, Pepette is so much better!

Pepette spends most of the day sleeping.

Is this cat dead?

Cleo spends most of the day - wait for it - catting around the neighborhood. With age, Pepette's wasting away. With age Cleo's plumping up.

Caution - Not really Cleo, but a reasonable facsimile.

Okay, that's not really Cleo. But people who know me and the cats will say "Pretty close!"

Is Cleo overweight? Cleo's so fat I took a picture of her and it's still developing. Hence the facsimile. Seriously, Cleo's so fat that she can't reach a couple of spots on her haunches when she's cleaning herself. After awhile she sprouts what looks like wings of dead, dirty hair. She looks sorta like a fat superhero cat. Or she looks like a thug. She's kind of a cross between Flash Gordon and Coolio.

Caution - Another Cleo facsimile.

Of course she might be able to fly with those wings, if she weren't so damn fat!

How stupid are these cats? Pepette will meow at the patio door to get out. She'll stand on the stoop 10 seconds, sniff the air and meow to get back in. Cleo on the other hand will sit on the stoop gazing wantingly through the patio door waiting to get in. As soon as I hop up to let her in she turns her back and wanders off. These routines repeat themselves every couple of minutes. 

Of course I may be just as stupid to fall for these kitty capers. Just a sec. I've gotta let the cat in...