It’s been a little over a month since these purr-fect little guys came into my life. I’d been thinking about adopting a cat for a while, only to be hooked at first sight by these regal brothers.
Rufus (left) and Bowie (right) won me over with their cat-like charm. They pounce and stalk and leap after anything that moves. They coo and purr and mew, and after a few weeks, I notice their feline tendencies rubbing off on me.
The candle flame in the autumn afternoon’s fading light captures my attention. It is quiet in the house, except for the sound leaking in from the soft rain on fallen leaves. The three of us sit at the table in the dim room, watching the warm flicker, mesmerized.
The squirrel in the window box, brave and eager to eat our freshly carved pumpkins, distracts us from the candle. One by one, we creep to the ledge. The squirrel bounds away and we’re left watching the scene outside: cold blanketed bold yellow and orange crunch, pitter pattering away.
Exchanging glances, I leave to put on a pot of tea. The cats jump off the ledge and run up and down the stairs. Distant rumbling fills the house, and I’m comforted by the muffled, padded paws pounding against the backdrop of rain.
The teapot sings and I remove it from the heat. Silence. I find the cats curled up together on the couch. A wrestling match turned nap leaves them tangled together, an image of peace. I sit down beside them with a book and a full mug. They look peaceful when they sleep, but I know it’s only a moment’s rest before the trouble-makers return!