Back in August Michael and I inherited a kitten. She had been a stray who was adopted by Michael’s friend Ellen, but Ellen was killed in a car accident about a month later. Ellen’s husband did not want to keep the kitten; they already had three cats as it was, and this one reminded him so strongly of Ellen that it upset him to look at her. Michael and I had been in the market for a cat anyway, so we happily took it off his hands. Ellen had named her Smoke. We re-named her Aria.
When we first got her, Aria was tiny enough to squeeze under closed doors. Now she’s, I believe, around eight or nine months old and has graduated from “tiny” to “small.” Michael says she’ll always be small, because she has little paws and he says the size of the paws are a good indicator of the size of the cat. Carmen, our other cat, is huge — around fourteen pounds. Aria weighs five.
Anyway, those two get along great. They groom each other, sleep side by side, chase each other around the house, wrestle, and sometimes fight, just like sisters should. Michael and I really lucked out, I think. We have such sweet, friendly, cuddly cats, when so many cats are standoffish, and they get along so well, when often cats don’t get along with each other. Plus, both of them are absolutely beautiful. Carmen’s fur is so floofy and with beautiful coloring and Aria’s fur is so sleek and shiny and both have big bright eyes. In my totally unbiased opinion they are the most gorgeous cats on God’s green earth.
I took a bunch of pictures of them both with my phone just now and thought I’d share some of them here: