Family

Day 143: Time for spring portraits again, so let me introduce my family to those of you who don't already know them. Skunk (top) is my old grandma-girl. She's 15 and not in the best of health. I've had her since she was a six-week old kitten. She's deaf, very arthritic, scrawny as a rail, and has a number of other geriatric issues which I try to accommodate as best I can. Her care is almost a 24/7 job, as I am sure my own physical needs will be when I reach or pass the equivalent of her years. That's something we all need to consider in our companions.

Tippy (bottom, full name Tipperary, aka Tip) was a shelter kitten, six months old when I brought him home. Also known as the Spaghetti Monster for his penchant for opening the cupboard and creating a pile of jackstraws in which to play, or as the Tickle Monster because he loves to be chased and tickled, he is 9 and bouncy-rowdy when he's awake. He keeps me young, my Boy, wanting me to keep the game going even when I'm ready to retire to my chair.

Perhaps it's the difference in their ages, for although they are both affectionate toward me, my two kids don't interact with each other beyond the occasional approach from Tip which is rebuffed by a snarl and hiss from Skunk. He respects her boundaries most of the time, and if things do get a little out of hand, I have only to say "Tip..." in a menacing voice and he backs off. I'm sure he doesn't understand why she doesn't want to play. When Skunk has possession of my lap, he will not try to shove her out. His tactics are more subtle. He sits on my footstool and transfixes me with that golden-eyed stare, as if to say, "Is it my turn yet?" By bedtime, they're usually both satisfied with the amount of lap-time they've received.

They're all the family I have, these two (well, other than a Little Tree and a big old Boulder in a faraway place). Family is important. I love mine.