We have two kitties. Lois is the black kitty. Drew and his dad found her in a ditch in Missouri as a kitten, and she has been eating like it's her last meal ever since. She once ran off with an entire butterflied pork chop. She really has no interesting Isabel at all, but she is snuggled under my arm right now as I type (sometimes she thinks my typing fingers are an invitation for pets... She's kinda crazy).
Then there is Clark. He was like my first child. We adopted him as a kitten when we were newly weds and nursed him through being sick one summer while we were home from school. He's a very sweet kitty, and the reason for this post.
From the moment we brought Isabel home from the hospital, Clark was interested. The first few months, the interest was more "What is making all this noise?", but it soon turned into a protective, friendly attachment.
When she was very little, she would inevitably fall asleep on our bed while we were getting ready for church. Clark loved this, and would always come and nap with her. We eventually had to stop letting him do this because he would get a little too close, but it was very sweet none-the-less.
There is rarely a time that Clark is not in the same room as Isabel. He sits on the dining room table while she is in her high chair eating, he lays on the couch or on the floor next to her quilt on the floor in the den while she plays. His newest way to spend time with Isabel is to get under her feet while she is playing in the exersaucer.
This is the funniest thing. She will be kicking away, bouncing, moving all around, and Clark just sits there, taking the abuse like it is the best pets he's ever gotten. Isabel will look up at me with a very confused look on her face and then go right back to playing and kicking.
Clark'e fondness of Isabel is so endearing. He'd be a super cool kitty even if he wasn't named after Superman.