sempstress

Three cats graciously allow me to share their apartment, on the condition that I pay the rent, clean the box, open the canned food, and provide them with nice, soft piles of fabric to shed upon. Occasionally, they allow me to actually use the sewing machine and the computer.

The original cat (who is currently staring at me) is Sivitri, the most absolutely perfect tabby in the world. She prefers dark velvets, any silks, and beads. She's my baby, and she knows it. She is also, by her own decree, the only cat who's allowed in the bed.

The new addition is Griseous Gesundheit, a name which he has grown into (and overflowed). He is not actually a cat. He is somewhere between a dog and a cow. He plays fetch, wags and chases his tail, likes water, and has been known to say 'Arf' with a completely straight face. Unlike Sivitri, he will lower himself to sleeping on polyester and acetate. He also has an unfortunate tendency to dip his white paws into any available dye bath, leading to a serious case of technicolor kitty syndrome.

The absolute newest (and last, dammit) member of the household is Spiritus Amicus, my friendly little Ghost. I found her going door to door at a complex I used to live in, trying to find someone who'd feed her and let her use the box. I took her in, posted "found kitten" signs all around, and eventually realized that I'd been acquired by another cat. She's about the cutest kitten in the world, is terribly dainty, and may be the current living incarnation of Bastet.