Meet Milo, the kitty of many aliases:  The Little Man, Doody, Heavy Doody, Boo, Boo Boo, and my personal favorite, Chunk-o-Punk.

The top picture really says it best.  Milo is a kitty on the go, well, except when he’s sleeping.  This little guy’s got so much energy and curiousity that it has, on occasion, driven me to drink.  He’s not like Paris.  He’s more of a bull in a china shop kind of kitty.  He’s clumsy and often down right awkward.  We prefer to think of him as a giant dog trapped in the body of a cat.  What else can explain the broken knick-nacks and knocked over lamps?  I mean jeez, aren’t cats supposed to have grace?  Bless his heart if he ever falls from a great height, for I fear that he would not land on his feet, but his head.  Hmmm, now that I think about it, that might be just what he needs!

Oh goodness, I’m terrible.  After all that, you’d think that I don’t like him, but I really really do.  He is such a lover, my sweet boy, so cuddly, too – whether I’m writing, reading, or watching television, Milo likes to sit on my lap, purring all the while.   He’s also a great watch kitty.  We can always tell when there’s a stranger about because Milo growls before high tailing it to the basement and hiding.  Also, quite unlike Paris, he does not have a delicate constitution.  Milo can eat practically anything and rapido!  The boy doesn’t mess around.

His favorite activities:

Defending the territories.  If Milo sees a cat entering the yard, he turns into THE LTTLE MAN, furiously running from window to window, growling.  If we decide to let him out at these times, he gives the wayward cat the business: growling, hissing, or otherwise informing the offender that he or she is most certainly not welcome.  He will not abide a strange kitty in our yard, no siree.

Playing with string.  He loves to pull string around the house.  Even better, he likes for you to pull it around, so he can chase it.  It’s alive!

Caressing the catnip.  We grow catnip in our yard.  Milo likes to walk in circles around the plant, giving it gentle nudges before, of course, taking a bite or two.

Pretending he’s an alarm clock.  This can be a joy or a curse, depending on the morning.  Sometimes, he will bat at the blinds, or try to knock the lamp over.  Other times, he jumps on my belly and purrs loudly while giving me a little massage with his paws.

The first time I remember making a conscious decision not to have children was in second grade.  I was playing at school with Kelli Edwards and Jill Habegger, and they were talking excitedly about the day they would become mommies.  I don’t quite know how I knew at such a young age that I didn’t want to become a parent, but I did, and said as much.

Thankfully, my husband didn’t high tail it in the other direction when I told him after we first met.  With the exception of about one hour sprinkled in increments over the past seventeen years, I haven’t wavered.

So, I guess it’s not unusual (It happens every day!) that we have cats.  Just so you know, we’re not the kind to play favorites, either.  Paris is our number one only because we got her first.  She’s our Fluff-n-Stuff, Sweet Girl, Birdie, and Princess Buttercup.  She is thirteen years old and will probably live to be one hundred.   The girl’s one tough cookie!

Paris is mostly sweet and, unlike our other cat Milo, well behaved.  She does, on occasion have her fits of kookiness and attacks Gregory.  Though, in her defense, he usually eggs her on in some way.  You can count on her for lots of tender head nudges, to slink stealthily around the house, be quiet at bed time, and not knock things over.  She likes to be near us, but doesn’t usually want us to touch her.  When she does want some physical affection, she usually flops on her side and makes cute, short meows until someone, mostly me, rubs her belly.  She is the only cat I know that likes this.

Her favorite activities:

Eating.  Definitely eating.  If you want to bust a gut with laughter, come to our house around meal time and watch her trot around!  We put her food in the same spot every time, but she runs around in desperation and worry, like it is a crap shoot.  This is what I imagine occurs in her little head:  “Here, by the front door?  Oh, no, maybe over by the dining room table today, but wait, the kitchen, that’s where it usually goes.  I better hurry back.  I’m so hungry!”

Growling at Milo.  Even though Milo has been a member of our household for nearly ten years, Paris has yet to fully acclimate.

Playing with her toys.  Paris makes this kind of high pitched and slightly distressed sounding meow while running around with a toy in her mouth.  She will bring it to you and drop it at your feet if you ask and, of course, she’s in the right mood.

Sleeping in boxes.  Paris loves boxes of all shapes and sizes.  It doesn’t matter if she barely fits and the sides bulge – it’s all good!