I love showing off our boys.
Here’s Simon and Gryffin.
Simon’s getting old—he’ll be 16 this year, or 112 in human years. He’s gotten a lot skinnier, too. He’s certainly slowed down lately, but he still has a lot of life and vitality left in him.
He’s also one of the most intelligent cats I’ve ever met. I’m convinced that he understands many English words. But he’s developed a language of his own, which I understand perfectly; I understand exactly what he wants when he “talks” to me.
This is my favorite picture of Simon, taken on a warm, sunny day last July. Can you just see the smile on his face?
Gryffindor Little Head Wetfoot, aka Little, aka Gryffin the Head, aka Moo Moo, aka Poo Poo. Gryffin came to us via our friend Will who became a flight attendant. We took care of him for a month while Will was at training, and I refused to give him back.
I believe he’s about three years old now. He’s learning more and more everyday, and like Simon, is pretty smart (regardless of what Kyle will tell you). For example, he knows that to open the door, you have to turn the doorknob. Problem is, when you’re so lil, you can’t quite reach it.
On the other hand, he still hasn’t grasped all the intricies of the little box. He uses it fine, but when it comes to covering, well, he tries scratching the sides and top of the box real good, but it never occurs to him to cover his poop with litter. Details, details…
Gryffin loves plants. He’d marry them if he could. But then he’d go to jail for eating his spouse to death (and possibly for other, as yet unsolved crimes of munched plants).
So there they are. Both their Daddy (me) and their Papa (Kyle) couldn’t imagine life without them. My favorite moments are when we’re all in bed together, falling asleep. It’s nice. It’s family.