It has been three weeks since Megan and I (and Andrew the roommate) welcomed two 6 month old cats into our home. Between this experience and (of course) reading Pam Johnston-Bennet's authoritative work on the subject, How to Think Like a Cat, I have learned quite a bit about cats and their younger version, generally known as kittens.

Let me describe their lives. Domo and Luna begin their day around four with a stretch and a loud meow from the end of Megan and I's bed. They like to start their morning off with a bit of hunting. It is generally understood in the cat community that feet can transform into mice during the night, and so Domo and Luna generally, they lie in wait on the end of the bed until a human moves his or her feet underneath the blanket. This is the signal to pounce and then kill. Megan and I have begun putting thicker blankets on the bottom of the bed, which makes the wounds less severe.

The cats are then forcibly removed from the bedroom. They spend the next hour or so on general calisthenics - including running around the house, wrestling, jumping from things to other things, and knocking things over. If the cats are people, they would certainly be very fit. Around 6:10, when Megan and I awake to the dulcet tones of NPR, they wait outside the door until we open it, whereupon they begin another round of hunting. Our feet are mostly off limits at this point, but there are still plenty of potential threats including (but certainly not limited to) the potted plant, my shoelaces, the blankets, the edge of the carpet, and of course each other.

Megan and I leave for work, and who knows what they do then. It is strongly suspected, however, that most of the day is spent watching things that move from the windows and sleeping. Perhaps they dedicate some of their day to hunting cockroaches, but it is perhaps too much to hope for that these well-intentioned but basically deranged beasts would practically contribute to the home.

They wake up when I return home, and then spend the next several hours playing with me, regardless of what I am doing. To a cat, everything besides petting, eating and sleeping is playing. Some of their favorite game include "Let's Try to Get Inside the Refrigerator," and "Let's Try to Get Inside the Guest Room," and, of course, the classic "Let's Try to Get Inside the Dishwasher." Interestingly, Domo greatly prefers to spend time inside the fridge (he likes to curl up behind the milk and go to sleep, whereas Luna is a dishwasher fiend. Based on her affinity for rim of the bathtub, she just likes walking in places where it is wet and difficult to walk.

The best game by far, however, is called Marshmallow soccer. Miniature marshmallows are far and away the cat's favorite toys. There are several stages to their game. First, they swat the marshmallows around on the floor for a while. This stage by the way, is striking similar to lacrosse in that wild animals spend their time chasing a tiny white object and attacking each other. In any case, the cats then they pick it up in their mouths and slobber on it. Finally, they place the now sticky marshmallow in a special and creative place of honor - sometimes just in the middle of the floor, other times behind or underneath the couch, but more often than not on one of our coats, or each other's coats, or in a shoe. This is akin to giving the game ball to the MVP of a soccer match.

Around 6, they settle down for some cuddling. Luna never really cuddles in the true sense of the word - she just attacks more gently - but Domo becomes sort of like a molten version of himself. Purring like a two-stroke engine, he rolls on his back and goes limp, flowing like a liquid wherever he may, which is usually off of the bed or couch onto the floor. He really has no regard for falling off of things. The thought that it might be better to stay on an elevated surface than crash to the floor has simply not occurred to him. Perhaps this comes with age.

In any case, the cats rise from their slumber just in time for bed, where they generally stand in the toilet while Megan and I brush our teeth, then hunt our feet for a while, then scamper off to do whatever they do at night. And in the morning, these strangest of all roommates begin the process all over again.

Anyway, here's some more pictures: