I mean, I know cats are weird, contradictory, mischievious, and all sorts of things, but ours are just plain weird. When discussing the girls that's even the response from other cat owners, "You have weird cats."
I'm pretty sure I have to take some of the blame. Our first cat, KitKat, was raised by a dog, so she basically thought she was one. KitKat played fetch, walked on a leash, was highly vocal, and expected belly rubs.
Nod and Bastet are a weird little combo. I almost didn't know what to do with them when we first got them. Nod was frightened of her own shadow and Bastet is the clumsiest animal (not just cat) I have ever met. I mean, how many cats fall when they try to jump onto a chair? Really, how many? We do figure her almost-dead state when the humane society found her as a days-old kitten has something to do with her motor development, but it was weird. (Especially since KitKat had been so graceful and a good jumper.)
Nod is the tortie camoflauging with the blanket while Bastet is wrapped around her. Nod is actually big on finding stuff she can camoflauge with. All over the house her favorite spots are ones where she blends. She's not such a fraidy-cat anymore, but she still has definite dos and don'ts everyone follows.
Like my poor dad who absolutely loves her? He's only allowed to pet her if he's on a bed. No joke. He must be seated on a bed for her to give him permission to pet her.
The list of Nod Rules is long.
The girls are pretty much opposites too.
Nod is insanely smart — like learning to turn a key in an armour to open the door smart, turning on and off lights smart, to opening all sorts of stuff and doors smart. While Bastet is dumb as a post. No, she really is. Our squeaky little Bastet is the dumbest (which a dumb cat sounds like an oxymoron to me) cat I have ever met. I love her. She is a loving cat. She's just incredibly stupid.
They fight like sisters can, but they have each other's back too. Early on (when she was still really skiddish) Nod escaped the house one day and sent us into a panic. The back door bounced open and someone didn't notice. Being the curious kitty, Nod left while Bastet stayed inside. She was "gone" for a few days. We knew she had come back a couple times because we spotted her. After dozens of suggestions we knew she was coming back around because she was hungry. We set up stuff to tempt her back. She was getting the snacks, but our live animal traps weren't getting her. Bastet had been tore up the whole time, searching for Nod. Her loneliness was as palpable as her worry.
One night, just as I was about to go to bed, Bastet starts going nuts by my window. Me: What are you doing? Her: MEOW! PUR. LOOK YOU STOOPID HUMAN! Me: *opens curtains*
There Nod was, tired, looking anxious and just done, on the other side of the window. (I live in a trilevel, the window is ground level.) I ran up to the door (which was 10 feet from the window) and opened it. But Nod refused to leave the window or Bastet. I ended up having to bend the screen frame to let her in through the window before she finally came inside. Bastet helped clean her. Both obviously relieved she came home.
So were we. I had never been so upset. Nod was still at the stage of trying to learn to trust people so we had been worried she wouldn't come back.
Nod does trust us more—it's a continual process with a shelter rescue. She talks to us when she has something to say (she even has a "get the fuck outta my way" meow/purr. It's actually kinda funny.) Bastet helps keep Nod from being too full of herself. It's a good thing.
More than anything, I am happy to have our girls. They keep life interesting.