What's new pussycat?

I don't know why I am posting this photo. He is just so darned cute and relaxed. Since I can't be napping right now, I just thought I'd live through Cooper vicariously.

I think I have shared this already, but in the event you missed it, we live with five, yes 5, cats. I know it's unheard of, but before you start identifying me at The Cat Lady, realize that this is a blended family.

Let me try to explain how this whole cat thing got started. Growing up I had a cat for 15 years. Her name was Robbie, affectionately named after one of the boys on My Three Sons. You guessed it, her siblings were Chip and Ernie. I loved that darned cat soooo much.

She died just before I left for college and I never thought much about getting another pet. Being on my own, it was hard enough to buy food for my own existence, much less that of a purring roomie.

Then it happened, my parents had a cat that was pregnant, big pregnant. Baby was due any day and my folks had their heart set on me adopting one of the kittens. I was unsure until I saw her. She was so gray, so sweet and so tiny. (Have you ever seen an ugly kitten? God doesn't let that happen.) So, I took home Izzie.

I lived alone then and Cynical was in school in another city. Izzie and I were quite the girls about town and loved our single, bachelorette life. We stayed up late, watched many episodes of "Felicity" and ate fancy food.

Cynical graduated and came to live with us while looking for a permanent place. Izzie and I were joined at the hip and our newest roomie, feeling a little left out, requested the adoption of another cat. We resisted, we really did, but before we knew it, Ike joined our little household. Izzie has never forgiven me.

So, we began our happily ever-after: Cynical, Ragged, Izzie and Ike. Then the kitten bug bit again. Cynical was watching "Cuddly Companions" on our cable station and spied a black cat and HAD. . . TO. . . HAVE. . . HIM. He had to rescue this poor little, neglected kitten doomed for death. (I nearly cancelled cable after this!)

Izzie and I resisted yet again. Ike was working under "the more the merrier" mentality, so he was no help. I reluctantly agreed to a visit to the animal shelter. What was I thinking? Who can resist those little meows and faces pressed against the cages? It's a conspiracy. Before I knew it, we were carrying a noisy orange kitten out of the shelter doors, ooing and cooing as if it was our newborn.

There we were with three cats: Izzie, Ike and Cooper. Who would have thunk it!

Eventually Cynical got his own place, but I maintained guardianship of our brood of cats. (We couldn't separate them afterall, right?)

Then it happened again. Cynical was working one day and looked out his window to see a little frightened kitten being chased by dogs. In a heroic measure (I am convinced he was wearing a cape and had a theme song), he rescued who we now call Sammy and took him home.

For those of you just joining us this is the tally: Ragged, 3 cats; Cynical, 1 cat.

We went along happily, or at least most of us were happy. . . Izzie was busy planning her escape.

Cynical then learned of another kitten in peril and rushed to save it as well. (Damn, it's hard loving a super hero. I have since hidden the cape and stripped him of all animal rescue powers.) Eli joined the clan.

All was well until something miraculous happened: we decided to move in (live in sin, cohabitate, be roomies) together. Not only did we combine our collection of CDs, but our collection of cats as well.

After much hissing, much hiding and a few tears on the part of the owners, everyone has now settled down into a dysfunctional family, just the way we like it.

So, now my life consists of kitty litter and cat hair patrol. We wear black with caution in our house, have learned that the vacuum is our best friend and often find ourselves apologizing for overly affectionate cats.

I suspect that I have developed a reputation as the "Cat Lady". I may never use the bathroom at my home again alone. I have probably been caught talking Kitty Speak to our clan. I may never claim my side of the bed as my own.

I wouldn't have it any other way. (Izzie, however, would argue that point.)