Mottled with a variety of mostly dark colors, she is considered a Calico. It is important to notice the patch of white on her "naughty bits."

Spazz and I spend a great deal of quality time together. She sleeps nearby me every night, gives me comfort when it's needed, and is constantly by my side, whether I'm doing something as monotonous as dishes or brushing my teeth.

I have a tendency to spoil her on many occasions. I always let her take a few "sips" of my milk, a couple licks of my vanilla ice cream or the cream filling in my orange creamsicles, a little cream cheese some mornings off of my bagel. [This spoiling may have triggered the excess chub she has accumulated, though I won't admit this to my family. I am in perpetual denial that my cat is fat.] I have even gone to the sick extent of getting her tartar control treats so as to keep those pearly whites. Frivolous as it may sound, but the veterinarian said she had excellent, clean teeth.

Spazz is the first real pet that has entered the household, and I fell in love with her the day I got her. She looked so small and scared as she stepped foot in her new home, but she had enlisted her trust in me as she curled up in my lap for a catnap.

A mere cat to everyone else, but to me she is so much more; my "welcome home" door greeter, my alarm clock if I so dare to oversleep, my shoulder to lean on in times of need [figuratively speaking, of course], my baby, my family.

The newest of the kitty family is the grand Sid Vicious, who also resides with Steve, me, and Spazz. He was considered the runt of the litter, but, alas, he is the rarest of his kind. From his stub tail to his gray "mohawk," he was dubbed Sid Vicious from the punk band, the Sex Pistols.

He was welcomed to the family at 4 weeks old, a tinie ball of white fur with a tail barely an inch long. As a young kitten, he attempted courageous and daring stunts, such as bounding off the edge of the bed, which was quite an achievement for a kitten barely a month old.

He would sleep most anywhere, any position. His first night was spent in bed with Steve and me, cuddled between us [though it has been confirmed it was all a ruse to keep warm]. Although he was squished that night by Steve, this has not stopped him from sharing the bed with us. Each night is started with Sid in the center of the bed, hogging the pillows and blankets. He is the quite the little human [with slightly more hair than the average folk], resting his head on the pillows as he spoons with us.

Sid's favorite pasttime is playing. His most favorite games are wrestling with Steve, attacking Spazz, and playing fetch. He has become quite skilled at fetch, now even bringing his toy back to us. "Spazz Attack" has become quite a sport for both cats. Beware the heavy pounding of kitty footsteps, as two balls of fur moving at lightning speed may bound around the corner at any moment, followed by loud kitty shrieks.

Yet his main goal may seem to only torment Spazz, many a time the two are found sharing sleeping quarters.

Sid is a rare find. Born male, now... asexual? Nearing his second birthday, he developed urination issues; alas, he could not pee. A normal feline bladder should be the size of a ping pong ball; his however was closer to that of a softball. Needless to say, quite dangerous. After not one but two, surgeries he can finally pee like a champ. The surgeon had to remove his penis and his furry "buddies" in order to give him more of a female urination anatomy. Some say the amount I paid to save my furry friend was quite extravagant. To that I say, "I loves me kitty." Would you put your child down? He is much better than child; he does not smell funny and his paws are never sticky. Children, quite frankly, are disgusting little creatures.

He enjoys water; bathtime is his favorite time. He is quite the vocal cat, not shy at all to share that his litter box is dirty or his food dish is empty. He is a persistent little one; he will not stop tormenting until his demands have been met [this has been triggered by Steve nicknaming him "The King," which has gone straight to his head]. Though the inflated ego, he is not shy at all to share his love and compassion. He loves to be held and cuddled and adored.

Yet another addition to the family of felines. Her name is Lucky, who cohabitates with my mother at her house, another calico, and shares the same birthday as my mother, April 17. We welcomed her into our home when she was only a mere 4 weeks old, so tiny, helpless, and fragile.

I remember coming home from the wretched high school that I, fortunately, no longer have to endure, and hearing soft, high pitched meows. I stepped into the kitchen, what do I see before me?, but a kitten pathetically sticking her paw out attempting to be set free from the cat carrier. Sensing her desperation and alienation, I freed her from the cat carrier prison and cradled her in my arms, trying to console the soft cries of this feeble little being.

Upon returning from the pet store for kitten formula, I poured a small amount into a dish, but, alas, she would not eat! Thinking perhaps she was more accustomed to her mommy's nipple, I repeatedly stuck my pinky into the formula so she could suck on my finger. Most likely tuckered out from the day's tragic events of being separated from her mother, she curled up under my chin and fell asleep.

Of course, Lucky has grown since then, as it is inevitable. Her fur is silky and fine and not all puffed out as it used to be, and her body is sleeker and leaner. Though she has begun to gain a small amount of chub around her white belly. She struts around the house with the feminine grace only a cat can possess.

She is unbelievably hyper and energetic, much more so than Spazz is, which is hard to fathom. She has great spurts of energy, which are usually accompanied by long naps. Unbelievably trusting that humans will go to great lengths not to injure her, she sleeps wherever she so pleases; on the staircase, in the middle of the kitchen or family room, on the edge of counters.

She is extremely affectionate with everyone she meets, quite different from Spazz who only shows adoration towards me. Lucky has an obsession with my father; she completely adores him! She greets him when he comes home, rubbing her furry face against my father's whisker-ridden cheeks, and weaving in and out his legs to attract his attention. As a young kitten, she would always sleep on top of my father's belly or around his neck or even inside his flannel shirt as he watched TV. My father is a rather gruff character; it's entertaining to see him coo softly to the kitten, pretending to be her mother.