Getting to Know Justin Bobby

I have a couple of confessions to make.  First, we never call the cats by their new names. Justin Bobby and Moses Cleveland don't roll off the tongue quite as easily as Nelson and Saba.  Second, yes, okay, it took me awhile to warm up to the kitties.  In our house growing up there were always several pets around and it was a lot of work.  There were dogs and cats and fish and, during an especially peculiar period in my sister's life when she seemed to have some sort of magnet for these things, injured wild birds.  But for the past eight years I haven't taken care of any living thing beyond myself, so having two new critters to care for took some getting used to, especially since I had the impression that cats were beings void of any personality whatsover.  Boy was I wrong, and I kinda can't picture my life without them now.  You might think, at first glance, that Nelson is a bit distant.  He has a rather indifferent aura about him, but he's actually the world's best cuddler.  He will come sit on your lap no matter what you're doing and slam his forehead against your own in some sort of interspecies communion.  He loves to be petted and combed and will let you hold him like a baby while you're doing so.  Nelson also sits in the most inconvenient places, jets out the front door whenever we open it, sheds fur like it's his day job, meows like a dying cow for no reason and knocks the toilet paper roll onto the floor to chew through it all the way to the core.  But who can think of any of that when he's curled up on your lap looking at you like you're the best mom of all time?  Okay, one more confession:  sometimes, when The Swede is at work, I practice my Swedish on them.  They never correct me.