When I wrote my memoire, Six Cats In My Kitchen, I really did have six of the little darlings who crowded around my feet in the early morning, eager for their stinky fish breakfast. All six have gone to kitty heaven now, but they live on in my heart. One doesn’t ever forget one’s children, and that’s what they were to me.

As with my human children, there were times when I wanted to strangle each and every one, but the moment always passed in the blink of a beautiful cat’s eye. That’s all they had to do, just gaze at me as if asking what I was all worked up about, and my exasperation melted away.

The same holds true for my three newer additions to the family.

Casper is a ten-year-old fat, white, short-haired tom with gold eyes and a demanding, yet loving way about him. He has us very well trained. When he wants something, usually food, cuddling or to be let outside, he makes us do his bidding by  meowing plaintively by the door, noisily pawing at stacks of paper or kneading – stomping on is more like it – an available lap. He loves cat treats, batting at water in the bathroom sink, touching noses with me and getting his ears rubbed. He hates going to the vet. Once there, he turns into Monster Cat, threatening to take off the hand of anyone who dares touch him.

Second among our current crop of furry dependents is Raven. He’s the exact opposite from Casper. As black as the bird he’s named after, he has longish hair, green eyes and a docile personality. To be honest, he’s a fraidy cat. Every little noise scares him and the other two cats lord it over him. He likes my husband to pet him but if he’s eating and hears hubby’s footsteps approaching, he runs for cover under a table or up onto a high surface. I suspect he was mistreated by someone before he came to our door in the middle of a downpour, crying pitifully. He was full grown but weighed only five pounds. You could feel every bone in his body and nearly wrap fingers around his backbone. He has doubled his weight over the past two years but will never be plump, and I doubt he’ll ever get over his fear. Whoever made him this way deserves to be whipped!

And then came Katy. She’s a mostly brown and black calico, short-haired and feisty. She adores petting and complains when the petting stops. Her favorite place is on our bed. Casper used to sleep between us on chilly nights, but not since this little girl took up residence. Rather than dispute her claim to the bed, he gave up and moved to the living room sofa. He’s not really afraid of her and will stand his ground, even put up a play fight now and then, but I think he just gets tired of her rambunctious behavior. He’s middle-aged, while she’s still a young whippersnapper.

When it comes to Raven, Katy is downright mean. She’ll chase him every chance she gets, and he’s so intimidated that he runs from her. I keep telling him if he’d only stand up to her the way Casper does, she’d back off, but he doesn’t listen. Kids! What’s a mom to do? Sigh.