The black one is Cacoa, and the caramel tabby is Jasper. Cacoa will be ten in March and Jasper will be eight in November. Neither of them thinks they’re anything other than kittens. Both are very playful, talkative, love snuggling, and get very upset with us (my husband and me) if we’re gone for more than an hour.
This one is Cacoa. She’s an awesome cat and a pain in the butt. She insists I be within sight at all times (unless she’s taking a nap), and if I don’t let her into my (very tiny) sewing room she’ll sit at the door and just cry. She’ll carry on for hours. It’s ridiculous. She’s also the most talkative cat I’ve encountered. Once she gets going and you talk back to her she’ll just keep at it. The longest conversation was cut off after an hour because it was driving my husband a little crazy.
Another fun fact is she can detect my seizures. I have epilepsy, and my worst seizures occur in my sleep. Technically between the first and second stage of sleep. That’s the time when my tonic-clonic seizures decide to have a party. Outside stimulation helps bring me out of it, and according to my husband she grooms my face and neck, and will sort of bite me but not break the skin. After that she will follow me everywhere. She already does follow me, but if I dare close the bathroom door she’ll throw a fit. We never trained her to detect my seizures nor to help me through them.
On top of that she helps me a lot with my PTSD and mental illnesses. Panic or anxiety attack? She’s right there, purring away, while massaging me. At night she snuggles right up under my chin, massages my arm/sh0ulder/neck till I fall asleep, and if I wake up from a nightmare/night terror/flashback she helps me recover. Again, never trained.
She’s an amazing cat.
This hunk of love is Jasper. He was eight weeks old, weighed two pounds, and was sickly when we adopted him. Turns out he was scheduled to be euthanized the day we adopted him. Someone had managed to sneak him into one of the cat cages at the human society, right up front, so he wouldn’t be missed. He and my husband bonded right away. Jasper had fleas, an upper respiratory infection, digestion issues, ringworm, and overall was incredibly sick. The shelter offered to “exchange” him, which is just wrong, but they did cover the costs of his treatment.
Cacoa was two years old when we brought Jasper home. He had been bottle fed only, never around other cats, and she pretty much had to teach him how to be a cat. Because she’s front declawed and he’s not I think he hasn’t quite figured out how to play. He’s eight years old now, and I keep his nails trimmed to prevent too much damage.
The bond he has with my husband is incredible. When Joe is upset or worried or just downright not happy Jasper is there to rescue him. At night he makes a special meow when Joe goes to bed, and will snuggle up with him. Jasper won’t snuggle up with me, but Cacoa does so it’s okay. One really funny thing is Joe loathes having his picture taken, and I think he somehow managed to pass that trait onto Jasper.
No one can convince me cats are cruel, mean, or don’t care. Our cats will do whatever it takes to make us happy, insist on following us everywhere, love cuddling and snuggling, and one of them loves playing fetch. They purr, give massages, will (attempt to) groom us, and talk a lot. I love my cats, even though sometimes they require flying lessons if they’re being particularly bratty.