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Then there's Kallista-Ree Sjare Khallinenda, my cat, also a black shorthair, who we rescued more or less by force, I've mentioned that tale a time or two, and she spent the first three months of her life with me almost exclusively in my lap or wound up in my Mk65 field jacket liner, which any time I am not wearing, I'll leave somewhere convenient for her to ball herself up in it, but she never loves it quite as much as when I've just taken it off, still warm with all my scent marks fresh on it.

She's the kitty godfather, too - when I went back and collected her from my former ex, who did not take care of her, she was sick, malnourished and fleabitten, and still from the moment she was carried in the door there was NO doubt who was in charge, cause SHE is the Princess, and damn well knows it - and it's usually her that comes up with whatever nefarious plan the rest of em are trying to carry out, usually badly.

Kallista is also the mystic one, with strange and inexplicable talents, enough of which have been witnessed by others to make em look at her a little funny - the wackiest of which was coming back from NY and leaving her in the car while we took a quick bathroom break... and upon our return she's in the passenger seat, unlocks the power doors and starts rolling the window down as we approach - the cat carrier, still locked, empty in the back seat - or the time we came home to paw prints on the CEILING, or how she can sideslip doors, although with the french lever doors I finally caught her doing a jump-grab-swing thing to open em, still doesn't explain how she can bypass a LOCKED door though.

And finally, she has a bit of a potty-mouth, displease her and she will let you know, you can actually hear multiple syllables in there, and while you might not understand the "words", the context is generally immediately clear, as is the profane nature of such utterances - in the words of Pat "Did your cat just cuss me out?!"

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