My aunt, Brenda, is a creative chick. She has long since assigned songs to her cats—a bit of an identity boost for the felines, you might say. Take, for example, Smokey's song. You all know the song "Louie Louie"? Imagine it to the words, "Smokey Jo-Jo! Uh Huh! Hey-eh-eh-eh! Ah-'Mokey Jo-Jo...."



I know what you're thinking, and I'm totally blown away with her lyric-writing abilities too.

Bandit, the most exceptionally beautiful cat that my eyes have ever beheld, is Smokey's sister. I still remember the first time I saw her in the pet store. I remember the first time I stroked her fuzzy head in the laundry basket in which they brought her home. She has just the sweetest little "meow", the gentlest grace, and the kindest of curiosities. I am quite smitten.

Her song is a toe-tapping, hand-clapping ditty that goes something like this: "Band-IT! Band-IT! You're so cute, I can't Stand-IT!" I sing it a lot, and often in the wee hours when I cannot sleep. Miles knows all of it by heart now.



I perused Maine Coon websites this morning. I have been wanting a Maine Coon for well over a year now, but life keeps clearing its throat and interjecting. Today, looking at the kittens made me putty. I gushed. I uttered baby-talk. I cooed at the response-less digital images. In short, I became the most irritating that I have ever been, which is no small feat.

"Honey!" I cried, the cuteness robbing me of all evidence of maturity. "They're just perfect!"

He replied, in his age-perfected monotone, "That's because Maine Coons look just like Bandit. And you can't stand it."