My girlfriend and I have three cats.
There’s the one who lives with us, the one that Becca adopted a few years ago. She’s charming, moody, and snuggly. The perfect cat. She’s all we could ever want.
However, there are two more cats in our life:
1. Tito. One day, as we were walking up our street, we saw a cute little black and white kitten sitting in an open window. He was observant and curious, watching the world go by from the safety of an old Puerto Rican lady’s kitchen. Tito, we named him. Over the past year or so, we’ve watched this little kitten grow into a big kitten. He’s one of our great joys of living here. Every single day, every single time either of us passes that window, we look up. About sixty percent of the time, we see Tito. We get so excited that we even text each other when we see him. No joke: “Tito!!!” the text usually reads. We’ve even started to imagine that he and Franny have begun a secret love affair, which brings me to:
2. Pouncival. Early on in our residency at our Manhattan castle, we looked across the courtyard to see a stunning white cat seated on a window next to the fire escape. This is Pouncival. He is Franny’s actual boyfriend. In the Moulin Rouge version of our lives, if Franny equals Satine, Pouncival is The Duke. Tito is Christian. Franny is nominally betrothed to the stunning coat and manicured nails of the gentleman across the way, but her heart belongs to the Puerto Rican street tough that may or may not show up from day to day.
This is how we pass the time, waiting until there are new cats for us to call our own.