First the introductions:
We are a 3 cat household with 2 human caretakers.
Madam Calliope- rules all of the household's activities, from when an extra
scoop of food is to be added to the dish (which she supervises, then
walks away without eating a kibble) to when the litterbox needs care. She is
not that obsessed with water,but the Prince Che is. He demands a trickle of
water be left on at the sink. He wants his fresh cold water.
Now Prince Che can't be blamed. He was literally born on my lap, and
the story goes from there. He is spoiled rotten to the core. If he lacks
anything wanted or needed, I am informed by Calliope. She rules the
roost. We were once staying at Her brother's who has 2 large dog...
one a pit bull, one is a German Shepherd/Dobie mix. She had the two
dogs obeying her (Calliope) within 2 days. She would regularly lay
between them and their foodbowl until she wished to get up (~15-30 mins).
Then, and only then could they stand to approach the bowl. She did
this just to exert dominance. Neither Sue nor I would move her, and
none of my brother's family dared. She has powerful arms and nails,
even a slap stings. If you followed her rules and requests, she's
a wonderful and sweet cat. Wooh be the human who forgets who's in
charge.
Poor Prince Che, he was born for the moniker General Che. But with his
spoiled, dinty self, he ends up being called "Che-Che" or "Sweet-Che". Some
Cuban Revolutionary here. Next time I'll wait to see the personality before
choosing a name. He should be named Little Prince. The boy is so dainty
that his paws have never touched grass. My next cat name was to be
Fidel ... I'll wait.
The last one, I found hiding behind a washer about 3 weeks ago. Really
hasn't adjusted to life here. She had belonged to my neighbor who left
her without making arrangements when being sent back to prison (no
surprise - parole violation). This kitty (? age) was scared and hungry.
She only looks about 7 months, but we're told she's an adult. She has
grown in length as well as width. We originally named her Diva, but she
might not grow into that.
Right now, I call (ah, the poor thing) her Rat Cat. She took down most
of our bathroom dropdown ceiling trying to get out. Actually, we were lucky.
The electrical wires (old house) were burning through, and had already
burnt the plastic. We thought her shenanigans were responsible for
all the damage, and the lights going out there. Rat Cat's antics had most
likely saved us from a house
fire according to the slumlord's
repair dude. Our slumlord has not done any upkeep since he bought
the building. Glad the Rat Cat is a good investigator.