Pouncing Panther, Climbing Cougar

In an attempt to show that I'm not always going to rant about politics or stressful things, this post is about the youngest members of our household.

At seven months, both "Pouncer" (lower left) and "Climber" (upper right) are beginning to grow into their adult personalities. They're both very sweet kitties that love to cuddle and play. But, they each have their own distinct personalities and idiosyncrasies (something we're trying to get two little girls to fully appreciate).

I adopted them earlier this summer, when they were three months old. I had kept them inside and was nervous about moving them to the new digs, unsure how they'd adapt to the new place, where the doggie door would let them come and go as they please. The night before I brought them over, we looked throughout the backyard for places in the fence that might be wider than a set of kitten whiskers...and we covered each spot we could find. (I didn't want them slipping outside and forgetting which house was their new home.)

I shouldn't have worried. No only did they take to the new digs, but they quickly learned the joys of playing in the garden, of chasing each other up (and over) the picnic table, and of tormenting their new toy (the dog).

(Actually, they don't really torment him. They're very nice to him, probably thinking he's an overgrown kitty who can't purr.)

Pouncer gets her name because she loves to chase things that move under blankets, pouncing on them just when they stop moving. It's cute when you're playing. When you're sleeping, though, it requires a bit more, um, patience.

Climber, though, is the explorer. When she's slinking through the jungle underbrush (the garden), she pretends she's the big game hunter. When she spots her prey, she'll crouch down, raise her haunches, and swing her little hips back and forth until she's got just the right footing, and then strike. She gets her name because she's figured out how to work past the yard exits I covered; she climbs the fencepost.

I nearly had a heart attack the first time I found her perched on top of the eight-foot fence running along one side of the back yard. I managed to pull her down before she made a leap for the other side, but I know she's going to try that one day.

I know she's figured out how to get out of the yard. So far, she's come back. I hope she keeps doing so.

By the way, if you're looking for an easy way to tell them apart, notice the colors near their ears. I call Pouncer the brunette because she has black markings. Climber, on the other hand, is the blonde; it's a dishwater blonde, because she has darker colors mixed in, but it's definitely blonde.

This shows what I mean; it was taken a few days after I brought them home.



They're very sweet kitties.