Cherry sighed to herself. Honestly, these other cats made their lives a lot harder than necessary.
She's talking about the brown cat, of course. The male Havana Brown, the one who reminds Cherry of an anxious rooster, seems to have panic attacks whenever his sister plays with her shiny knives in the house. Cherry herself thinks it's funny whenever the young female ignores her brother and practices anyway, though it confuses her as to why the females claws are detachable. Ah, all cats are different though, she supposed.
The silver British Longhair is a good example. When Cherry first met him, he wasn't too keen on her hair all over his magenta pants, so he tended to keep her outside of his and his mate's den. Cherry would often retaliate after being put out of the room by yowling loudly, until the black American Curl opens the door and coos at her to come and play. She always makes sure to meow loudly in the Longhair's face when that happens.
She likes the American Curl the best. The female Havana plays with her the most, but the Curl is much more fun. Sure, they've broken things in the past, but the Curl is the one who fed her food from his bowl, and always lets her sleep in the bed (and not at the foot, if the Longhair had anything to say). He had even let her walk around outside, although he makes her wear that itchy belt around her chest, probably to keep her from running away. She'd never do such a thing, but it's nice to wear it in the winter when it's cold and breezy.
Right now, the Curl is in the room with all the food, and he's doing something with carved pig that's making Cherry's mouth water. She's not allowed to have pig all that often, but he always sneaks her some when Longhair's not looking. She meows and looks up at him with big amber eyes.
"Oh, hey, Cherry Pit. Wassamatter, you want a piece? You know I'm not supposed to give you pork…" she amps it up a notch and whines again. "Good lord, look at those eyes! Weapons of mass destruction, they are. Hm…" he kneels to look her in the eye. "I'll give you a whole plate if you promise to stop chewing Mile's loafers for a week, ok? How's that sound, Pit?"
She hates that nickname, but it sounds sweet coming from him, which is why she only claws him once this time. "Mrow." She nods her head and stands up straight.
"Good girl. Hang on." He stands back up and reaches over on the counter. "Go sit on the couch and I'll bring it out."
She suspects he doesn't want her to see him put her medicine in it, but she's not dumb. Oh well. It's worth it for the pig. She dutifully goes as leaps gracefully onto the sofa, making sure to walk across it twice before settling on a cushion. That's teach the Longhair to put her in the bathroom when company comes.
The Curl eventually comes and sits next to her, two plates in his hands. The bigger one is for him, and he sits a small glass bowl lined with emeralds in front of Cherry. She thinks he bought it just for her. He's such a sweetie.
"There you go. No telling Miles, alright? He hates when I let you eat human food." He reaches for the remote and clicks on the TV.
She doesn't know why he pretends to be human, his hair and those great blue eyes he apparently never grew out of tell Cherry otherwise. Humans are never as nice either. She'd think the Longhair human, but the Curl wouldn't have a human mate, and despite his attitude toward Cherry, he's as loving as can be to the black Curl.
He's also good to the red Maine Coon tabby that visits. She treats the Longhair and the Curl like her parents, but she also has female caretakers, a black Siamese and a black female Maine Coon. The black Maine has a brother, whose fur is bushier than Cherry thinks is really necessary, and his mate is a really loud and annoying American Bobtail, who's always saying something about 'Justice!'. He often tries to speak cat to Cherry, which is stupid because Cherry understands English just fine. Half the time he's insulting her mother, but he obviously doesn't know, otherwise he'd stop. She makes sure to only scratch once or twice, or at least until his mate tells him to stop. Which is odd, considering the male Maine Coon seems to be terrified of her. The awk on his shoulder likes to steal Cherry's food, but he's twice her size, so she lets him off with a warning glare.
There was a Fawn Somali who would visit the Havana, but Cherry hasn't seen him in a while. She hopes nothing has happened to him, he gave the best backrubs. His Lilac brother can burn though.
And of course, there's the Korat that blushes all the time whenever the male Havana is in the room. It's a bit ridiculous, really. Why she doesn't just rut against him and show her interest is a mystery to Cherry. The Korat is at least better than the Russian Blue. All that one ever does is draw. And don't get her started on the Pixiebob and her...'science'. Whatever that is. All she knows is that she can't eat it.
There's also the exceptionally loud Bombay that practically lives with them. She thought he was the male Havana's mate at first, with the amount of hushed cooing and snuggling they participate in daily, but apparently not. Which, why not? They're perfect for each other! Ugh, these cats. They're lucky they don't go into eustress. Cherry wished she had a mate in the spring.
She tried mating with the Curl once, but he politely gestured from himself to the Longhair and she understood. Which is unfortunate, because his blue eyes make her want to cry in frustration with how beautiful they are. Their kittens would have been gorgeous.
"What're are you looking at, Pit? Do I have salad dressing on my face?" the Curl reaches up and swipes at his adorable mouth.
"...mrow."
Damn it.