The Three Micecatcheers

My sister was taking some pictures of our cats today for school and I thought several of them turned out pretty good.

This is Nellie. We picked her up as a kitten, literally on our way out of town as we were moving from Felton to Oakhurst, so she is as old as the hills: about seven years to be approximate. (This translates to 44 human years.) She is the most affectionate and least active of the bunch.

PJ is the non-runt from Nellie's first and only litter. His father remains unidentified, but he must have been substantial. PJ, (which stands for "Pippy Jr." - long story,) is one hunk of a cat, and has been known to send full-grown raccoons scurrying and squealing off into the night. He has also earned the respect of several neighborhood dogs, and eyes Montana with the cool composure of a street-wise thug. He thinks he's the sphinx.

Tiger showed up last winter, spending a cold, wet night in a backyard oak tree before we pulled her down, warmed her up, and gave her some food. We liked her, and were worried she would leave as quickly as she came. She had no such intentions. Cats aren't stupid: plenty of food, plenty of attention, room to play: it just doesn't get much better than that.
Besides her astonishing markings and fascinating pedigree, Tiger is endlessly entertaining. Early on, she was famous for getting herself stuck in trees and mewing incessantly until someone (usually me, being the soft one,) hauled out a ladder and brought her down. She's thankfully outgrown this, but she's still all kitten. She likes to boing-boing car antennaes and will perform an amazing feat of choreography to drink dripping snowmelt off a bumper. Watching her in her first snowfall was perfect hilarity - she just had to catch every one.

As you can see, she's both photogenic...

and quite energetic as well.

Did I tell you that I like cats?