Usually two at a time.
Right now, I have just one: Her Royal Majesty, Empress of Carcosa, Queen Shadowskiddyboomboom The Pitiless. "Shadow" for short. Naturally she's black, my favorite color feline. She was adopted at the age of six or so from a cat shelter just over a year ago. I have the honor of being her third human, her first one having died and her second having moved away. More than likely, she'll be my last cat, as I'm seventy-one.
My previous two beasts were special. Natasha Krospina I, Empress of All The Cats, was a black Maine Coon with the Munchkin mutation. With her thick, long hair and short legs she looked like a self-propelled mop roaming about the house.
Her partner in crime was The King In Yellow, Hastur The Unspeakable. That big goof was a Savannah cat, also a rescue. (Savannahs are not for the faint of heart!) With his stilt-walker legs, enormous ears and cheetah spots, he was a beauty. Eerily intelligent, I could tell when he was planning some oddball mischief. One of his favorite activities was stopping my clock's pendulum, then later returning to start it going again.
Both of them rejoined Bastet within a year of one another. Natasha had a stroke at the age of seventeen. Hastur developed some mysterious wasting sickness that we could never identify, and went to play on the Isle of Reeds last July.
I can remember fondly all of the cats who have graced my life, even Bodri from my childhood in Budapest. (An orange tiger.)
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