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Before I ever had babies of my own, I had cats to care for and enjoy. I grew up with many furry purr-pots, and had always loved them, so it was only a matter of time before I took the plunge and became "A Pet Owner". A scary proposition at the time, taking on the responsibility for a living thing. I waited until my now husband and I had settled into a stable life, fit for taking on a pet. With fear and excitement, I adopted my first cat. His name was Bowie, a smart, tuxedo cat that had been abandoned at the Vet clinic I worked for. We had fallen in love with each other and it didn't take too long to adjust to our new life together. A few years and a new house later, I adopted Feyluniel (Fey for short). She'd been left on my boss's doorstep Halloween night, under a full moon. I kid you not. Did I mention she was an all black kitten?

Thus the training began. Of me, I mean, not them. I didn't realize it at first, but my cats were imparting some very important lessons, lessons that once I acknowledged them, would help in my role as "Mom", an even scarier proposition then "Pet Owner".

Number one; how to give everyone the attention they need even when they all want it at the same time. All you parents and cat owners know what I'm talking about. You're deeply involved in something like putting together that cake you've been hankering to bake, or catching up on your pile of Oprah magazines; important stuff! Absorbed as you are, you sense something. Something powerful. You look up, down, and behold two pairs of eyes staring at you. Or it starts with just one pair and immediately, as the other realizes you're not paying attention to THEM, the second pair materializes like the Cheshire cat in reverse. What to do? Hey, I've got two hands, right? One for you Bowie, a scratch behind the ears, and one for you Fey, a rub along the back. You say you have more than two demanding attention? That's what feet are for!

Number two; be consistent with what is allowed and what isn't. Oh, this is a hard one. Especially when you're just too darn tired to even remember if it was yesterday or today you last fed the guinea pig, let alone remember all those little details you insisted everyone follow. For instance is it or isn't it okay for the cats to walk across the shelves arranged with books and small breakable things, jump down to the end table, narrowly missing the potted plant, just to get to the windowsill which can be reached directly from the floor so much easier? Which leads

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