Cats are fun. Georgia – she’s a domestic shorthair, black and white tuxedo cat who happens to in all seriousness have a weight issue. Her tiny frame should weigh about 8 lbs, but she weighs double that. The veterinarians she’s seen are stymied as to the cause. Personally, I think it’s tied into her brain function. She’s just not quite with us, and if she weren’t so amazingly snuggly and soft, she wouldn’t stand a chance in this world. Henry – Georgia’s slightly neurotic younger brother. He’s a classic tomcat, pumpkin orange with pumpkin orange eyes. Kind of a bully, but George rarely minds (or maybe she doesn’t exactly notice). Henry is skinny. Not because he doesn’t eat enough, but because he is extremely active. Extremely. He’s smart too. He’s very good at breaking the rules and then looking completely innocent, but after nearly 4 years, I’m beginning to think it’s an act. He enjoys roughhousing, hiding toy mice, which he has “juiced up” in his water bowl, and loving on his dog. He especially likes it when the dog sniffs his rear (animal bonding I guess). Here is a typical Saturday 3 minutes in my house: Human, having just opened a pouch of tuna, divided it among 3 animal serving platters, “TUNA!” Dog has eaten it before the plate actually made all the way to the ground. Henry, sensing some evil is afoot, has ducked ‘round a corner to quietly transform into his alter ego, The Orange Blur. Georgia thinks she heard …a noise. Henry, flattening his body to increase his aerodynamics, dashes at speeds upwards of 450 miles per hour from the dining room into the kitchen. Upon spying the offending being on a plate in the window, launches himself 6 feet in the air causing gale force winds to blow his human’s form right into an open cabinet door. He lands with a whisper. George smells something appetizing on a strange wind coming from the area of the food place. She sets out to investigate, strolling, oh so casually, into the room. She takes in the scene laid out before her. A person who she does not recognize is rubbing her head and speaking in a loud tone of voice. Maybe a quick massage around the ankles will ease the tension in the room. George ponders this awhile and decides it is a good course of action. Henry sniffs the strange creature in his kitchen. Obviously, it has come from the depths of the universe to engulf his world in despair. He extends his mighty paw daggers and prepares to strike. Oh, no. His well meaning human trimmed his claws yesterday while he was asleep. They will be of no use against this enemy in their blunt form. With lightening speed, he comes to a decision. He must sacrifice himself for the good of the family. He eats the tuna. Georgia is so pleased with the way her day is turning out. The human she rubbed against became so happy to have ankles tended to, she did a lopsided dance over Georgia’s body and shimmied in a circle around the kitchen yelling Georgia’s name. The human, who looks vaguely familiar, don’t I know her, picked George up and placed her by another cat, an orange one she does not recognize, in front of the good smelling thing. Georgia eats the tuna. She looks over toward the other cat, a spark of a distant memory beginning to………it’s gone. Henry, not dead, and actually feeling quite invigorated, leaps from his window perch and speeds undetected from the room. Now where is the dog.