I realize I have been remiss in not writing about a big part of our family — our cats.  All of them have a story.  We have a Bengal that wasn’t deemed “good enough” by a breeder (Elgin is marbled; not spotted).  Sweetie, the sweetest calico cat ever, someone just gave up but at least to a rescue organization.  And then there is Soleil and her kitten Giverny; they were about to be gassed to death in a shelter.  Soleil is unusual in that she is orange; statistically only about 20% of females are.  I call them collectively the “bad cats” but actually they’re all pretty good and they are super friendly like dogs.  I cannot imagine watching TV, reading or sleeping without a kitty by my side.  One even likes to “help” me bathe.  Years ago I had a girlfriend who didn’t have cats come over to watch mine and my condo while I was away on a trip.  She was completely freaked because things were different every time she was there.  Cabinets would be open or knickknacks on a table would be in a different place.  I laughed and told her it wasn’t a poltergeist; it was just the cats.  They get curious, or bored, or playful and move things around.  An all-time favorite quote of mine has long been writer Robert Heinlein’s “Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.”  The worst is when I cannot find one of them.  They have turned up everywhere from the attic to the linen closet.  One time I heard meowing coming from our master bath and the cat had managed to wedge himself in between closed drawers.  I kept opening them but could not find anything amiss.  Now all their collars have little bells on them so it helps us know where they are.  When our daughter was a toddler we had our cabinets “childproofed” (but also really “catproofed”) with a magnetized locking system.  There’s a knob and when you place it on the cabinet it opens.  I once looked and looked everywhere but could not find the darn knob when I was in the kitchen trying to cook.  About to give up, I glanced over and found Sweetie pictured above.  Notice anything??  Remember the bells they have?  They’re metal.  LOOK what I found attached to her — THE BLASTED KNOB!!!  She had been calmly watching me the whole time.  Then there was the infamous Thanksgiving incident on our formal dining room table.  The cat ran down the entire length of it, stepping in my good china, and stole the turkey.  I was horrified because it was my first Thanksgiving married but my grandmother-in-law just sat back and laughed.  I have a little plaque which reads, “Cats are like potato chips.  You can’t have just one.”  I know I cannot save them all but at least I saved these.  And they saved me right back.