The oldest cat.

I just realized that our oldest cat, AngelBoy, is twelve years old now. Seems like just yesterday when I found him at the SPCA, and now he's the senior cat of the three that we have.

This once-tiny ball of silver gray fluff was half of a set of twins, both so identical that you really couldn't tell them apart when they were so little. I've often wondered how the other one turned out-- is he as picky and as prissy as this one? And I have also wondered if we changed AngelBoy's personality somewhat right at the beginning by taking him away from his twin. Would he have been a better cat if kept with his brother? Less prissy? More tolerant? Should we have just adopted both twins?

Looking back on this blue-eyed cat, we really didn't start having problems with him until our next cat (ShadowBaby) came along-- quite by accident.... we went to an antique shop in a tiny town west of here and found this tiny black kitten sitting on the curb in front of the shop. He ran up to me as soon as I got out of the car. Of course, I had to pick him up, and he nestled in underneath my chin and that was that. The owner of the shop told us the kitten had been out there all morning long, just waiting for us, she said. (At the time, my husband wondered if that lady had a box filled with kittens-- and was she putting them out on the sidewalk one at a time?)

AngelBoy wasn't thrilled when we brought home that tiny black kitten, who is now ten-year-old ShadowBaby. Just like our dog Gracie, AngelBoy is a one-pet pet. Gracie wants to be the only dog, which she is. AngelBoy wanted to be the only cat, which he isn't. We had an orange and white Manx when we brought AngelBoy home, and he didn't mind Rusty, probably because Rusty was already here when AngelBoy joined the family. But this blue-eyed AngelBoy made it clear that additional kittens found after him were not in his best interest. Or maybe they weren't in our best interest, because that's when AngelBoy began having his little "accidents." (The guy who cleans our carpets would walk in here and ask me "So... you still have that long-haired cat..."-- and he'd just smile.)

AngelBoy has indeed been an angel for months and months now. I don't really give him a chance to be anything but. He's on the screen-porch when I can't watch him, in the laundry room at night if it's too cold on the porch, and he's been following me around when he is in the house. AngelBoy knows the phrase Go use your box! When I tell him that, as I'm pointing to his litter box, he will calmly walk into his box and use it. If he doesn't have to pee, he still walks into that box, stays there a second or two, staring at me with those blue eyes of his, and then he walks out of the box. "There! Are you happy now?"

When AngelBoy is in the house and I tell him Stay where I can see you!-- he will do just that: follow me, rub up against my leg, and if I sit down at the table, he will jump up there and sit right in front of me like a centerpiece. "Is this close enough so you can see me?" If I sit in a chair to read, he curls up and puts his head on my foot.

My husband and I have always said that there's a little person inside this cat. A tiny person who understands every word we say. His face says it all-- he can scrunch up his face to give you a dirty look if you have disturbed his nap, or change his features quickly to a loving look if you're standing there with the jar of cat treats in your hand.

If nothing else, this blue-eyed Birman has taught me patience. I thought I was patient before this cat, but having AngelBoy in the house has taken my patience to a saintly level of endurance. Okay, so he wet the carpet. Well, maybe I would too if two other cats were chasing me from one end of the house to the other. (They pick on AngelBoy because they know he won't fight back.) I have learned to intervene as soon as I hear the others running after AngelBoy. I quickly scoop up this blue-eyed cat into my arms and he looks down at the other two as if to say Mama saved me again, you bullies!

Reading about Birmans, I've learned that they need a lot of attention. And they don't care if you're busy with other things, other cats, other people. If they want you, they want you now. We didn't know he was any particular sort of breed when we adopted him. He was just a silver gray-white ball of fluff, as cute as cute could be. As he matured, his fur developed a lavender-silver tint on his paws, his tail, his ears, his face. Way beyond cute, he grew into a beautiful cat, without a doubt. And he knows it. But he has been on his best blue-eyed behavior these last six months, eight months, even longer.

So of course I am watching him even more closely now... as I wait for the other paw to drop.