"Double portrait," October 2007

Double portrait

Even after I'd moved out of my parents house, whenever I returned, I tended to look into the windows of the room closest to the driveway as I walked across the patio to the kitchen door. I was looking to see if the cat, Oreo, was surveying the landscape. If I was stopping by when no one else was home, I'd search him out as soon as I got inside. Even after he was gone, for months I still found myself looking in the windows on my way to the door or waiting for him to come trotting up when I was inside. It took quite some time to shake that feeling of his presence in the house.

Now, finally, my wife and I have reason again to sense another presence around the house, even if one of us isn't home at the time. Lenny and Harry have made themselves at home, and though we lived there for four months -- and together for five years -- without the two cats, I've found that after just two months with them that I can't imagine the house (and life) without them now.

Lenny, five months old when we got him, is an affectionate, playful tiny ball of terror. He'll be fast asleep at any hour of the day or night -- and I often come home in the wee small hours -- yet as soon as he hears a door, he's up and investigating in little more than a minute. And you can't sit on the couch for too long before he's in your lap.

Harry, at three years old a wise and more stoic cat, certainly marches to his own beat, but he'll put his 14 pounds of heft onto your lap when the mood strikes him. He'll also throw his weight around to open most doors in the house that aren't latched or otherwise securely closed. And should Lenny start antagonizing him and wrestling, Harry simply pins the little guy to show him who's boss.