Molly

Molly was a gift from my real estate agent when I bought my first house. I had said that the first thing I would do would be to get a cat, since I was the only Chandler in my family without a cat. When I went to get the keys, she had a box full of cat supplies, and said she had a cat for me once I got settled in. Molly is very mellow. Very stacticy. Very smell-oriented. And is capable of projectile shedding. She's a real climber, and would rather stand on your shoulders (and outstretched arm) than be held. She also loves sitting in laps, even when you're on the can.

Marcus

Marcus, alas, is no longer with me. He started life as a barn kitten at my friend John Van Stry's farm, but he was incredibly friendly. I figured Molly could use some company. I should have known he'd be a little trouble. He had a very dominant personality. When a three pound kitten can push a nine pound adult cat away from the food, you know how the social order is going to turn out. But still, he was very friendly. He hated heights higher than the seat of a chair. He was very vocal. While Molly was prissy, and would rather sniff your finger than be scritched by it, Marcus loved belly-rubs. But when Molly was around, it was another story entirely. It came to a head one Thanksgiving when Marcus attacked her. From then on, they had to be permanently seperated. Any time he had a shot, Marcus would terrorize her. I was unable to find another home for him. But I didn't take him to the pound or anything like that. Unfortunately Nature took a hand, and he had some sort of digestive failure. He died February 5th, 2000 at the age of around 3. And just look at those teeth. I was on the receiving end of those a few times.

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