Our cats

In order for anyone who has bad intentions against us this will to give you some ammunition to use. We have too many cats. There, phone the cat cops. They'll not have the courage to enter the crumbling and bullet ridden halls of Deathrock Apartments anyhow.

We joke about our three cats often because legally in the great metropolis of Winterpeg the masters have ruled that three felines is the limit, although you can have as many mice as you want. And ofttimes if there were only three cats in sight I could get away with convincing my sweet wife that that's all we had, as she ofttimes tries to convince me.

We have unique names for our family, Blacky being the only somewhat traditional one. He's a big chubby male with a surly disposition, and he's black. He has one friend named Lollipop who came to us bringing a litter, one at a time to our door step, before we were evicted by the next door gang from our previous abode, a neat little house which we owned in the heart of the Kingdom of The West End Boyz. Lollipop is a sweety and the self appointed guard of the cat door, a cherished portal to the dilapidated fire escape three stories in the sky which no human in their right mind has set foot on in nigh twenty years, that being said it is well used especially on government cheque nights, with more than a few screams emanating from the dark alley below as the sound of falling timbers serenades our sleep.

Now Moses is my wife's bud. He adores her. When my wife was confined to the vast realms of the hospitalic enclave which borders on our hood several years ago, this Moses shit on my bed every day. We have since made a sort of truce, this Moses and me, but he eyes me with great suspicion if I ever return to our digs unaccompanied by my wife.

Tiny is the matriarch of the empire. She is now past her child bearing years, but in her day we tried unsuccessfully many, many times to capture her in a pet carrier so we could have her fixed. We still have scars to show for our battles. She was a stray who adopted us and she must have had a run in with one of those darn boxes in her younger years. The one time we did get her in the carrier she became so wild that she broke the latch and escaped, not to return for three days, so we let her be. That's sort of how she rules us subjects too.

I have a bud. Her name is Perky. She loves my laptop and if she could live on the keys she would. I've made a hard cover for the keys so I don't have to close it every time I get up to do something, but occasionally I forget or she tricks me and plants herself there for some quality time pets. It is amazing what the random pushing of keys can cause a computer to come up with especially when your in the browser. It's taken me weeks to get it back into a somewhat normal operating mode. Thank you Perky.

Daz is on old, old grouch who sleeps 23 hours a day on the kitchen counter. He has arthritis. He's been through four homes with us and knows our ins and outs to bring his ignoring us to an art form. When he wishes to get down he screams till we bring him a chair so he can limp his way twice daily to the food bowl and the litter box. He was an incredible mouser in his prime and he just tingles when the others catch one to play with but he can't move fast enough to join in the fun anymore.

The youngest member of our household is Ollie. We found him wandering the interminable halls of Deathrock Apartments after a major shoot out in the floors below us. We really are safe here on the top floor as intruders always get cut down before they reach our level and the Mad Cowz take good care of us as long as we pay our tribute. Anyhow Ollie is a sweety who got taken in by the others and they taught him everything they know about life here, and especially not to sneak out in the hallway where monstrous dangers lurk. They're really careful with him as he learns to venture out onto the fire escape and there's always two or three guarding him as he learns which steps are secure enough to hold the weight of a cat.

I'm sure I've missed a couple of our family here and some only stop by in their wanderings for a bite to eat and then they're off again as umbras of their fortress, to vigilantly guard their clowder against ferils who eye their cat door with envy and relentlessly challenge the right to ascend the staircase to an abode beyond the reaches of madness.