Cats.

I have had one or more cats for years. (I once had seven cats. Inside. It was insane ... and so was I.) While what I really wanted was a dog -- don't tell the cats-- I lived in apartments most of my life and a cat was all I was allowed. I have never regretted sharing my life (and furniture) with cats. Although, truth be told, I did rather resent some of their attentions to my personal property. I have grown to love their complex personalities; their ability to live without the faintest whiff of guilt. I like to think my cats and I co-exist on equal terms. But I would be lying. I am their slave.

(Once)Slim (l) and Cookie the Fang-less (r)

I was surprised when I looked at this picture that it was difficult to tell (Once)Slim and Cookie apart. Cookie will be 12 this year (born on March 31, 2000) and (Once)Slimmie is approaching 2 (DOB not quite as pinpointed). I was also surprised to realize that all three of my cats are a) male and b) black and white. I have been trying to get a close-up of camera-shy-Kramer's face. He resembles a small, daffy, adorable vampire cat. If you stare at him long enough, he slowly opens his mouth, baring his fangs, and squeaks. And if you hug him tightly, he resembles a squeaky toy. Ask me how I know...