Meet The Family, Pet Three

Tallulah Belle. A Southern kitty, bless her heart.

She was living in an animal hospital in Smallville when we found her. She looked like a mini version of another cat we'd had, Voncie, and I knew we had to have her. So we pulled her from the cage and brought her into our house.

Max loved her. They ran and jumped and terrorized one another. Tuxedo hated her at first--he doesn't like any new addition to the family--and now he just, well, he tolerates her mostly, and stays out of her way.

We had two other cats at the time, both nearly eighteen--Lady and Sweety. A few months after we brought Tallulah home, Lady began to die of old age. Eighteen in cat years is like.....well, it's a long time. Tallulah, as Lady was in her final days, would crawl into the bed next to Lady and cuddle with her. She seemed like she was hugging her. And as Lady closed her eyes that last time, Tallulah was there, at her bedside. She was so sweet.

Or so we thought.

Just last month, Sweety began to die. She was nearly nineteen at the time, so we snuggled her in a bed. I watched and waited for Tallulah to cuddle in next to Sweety, but she wanted no part of that cat. She used to chase Sweety and push Sweety around. Sweet? She was such a bitch.

Tallulah is the cat you all hear about. Aloof. Mooody. Won't give you the time of day. She doesn't look at you when you call her name. She is, of course, Southern after all, so that might explain her oddities. Roaring into the kitchen when she hears ice fall from the ice maker; she loves a cube or two in her water dish....she must think it's a Mint Julep and she's sitting on the veranda, or something. But she likes to crawl in your lap every so often and flop down. She looks at you with the cutest eyes that seem to say, "Who are you?"She purrs up a storm, rests for a second, and then she's gone....chasing Tuxedo or Max, running to the fridge, or trying to find a way onto a counter, a cabinet, a cupboard.

She's a terrorist. Southern belle style.