I have 3 cats. Or rather, 3 cats own me. One has kidney disease, and he just turned 17. He's a grumpy old cat, but I love him to pieces. He was flown to Sacramento from Minneapolis, and he almost missed the flight because ground temperatures can't exceed maximums on arrival, and we all know hot Sacramento can be in the summer. He's lived here six years now.
The other two are Ocicats. I got Pica from a breeder in Orange County. She was ready to let him go because he was marbled, and only spotted Ocicats can be shown. I thought Pica would make a good companion for my older Somali. But my Somali thought Pica was a young whippersnapper who required too much energy to entertain.
Enter the picture: Pia. She was a breeder, 18-months-old and finally spayed when she came to live with us several years ago. She keeps Pica in line and rules the roost around here, even though she's about half his size.
Pia has always been her daddy's cat. She loves my husband. She sits on his lap every chance she gets and sleeps with him at night.
This remodel has been hard on her. Everything is moved around in her Land Park home; little is familiar to her, strange men have come into the house, and none of them is her daddy. He's gone. She doesn't know where he is or when he is coming home.
As a result, she has cuddled up to the electric knife sharpener that I have so carelessly tossed on a chair. If she can't have her daddy, she can have a piece of equipment he has touched. Poor kitty. Isn't she sweet looking?