You have arrived at the subdomain of Joanne and Fagin. We are the cousins of the bee-yootiful Mlle Grazzi, not by blood but by choice, which is way more meaningful. After all, what is more important to a feline than having options?
 
 

Joanne (aka "JoJo"): My person-mom says I was born to a scraggly Siamese stray but since I made my debut as a tiny white puffball, I'm not so sure. Her conclusion was that I'm Siamese-Himalayan, meaning a double-dose of Siamese with Persian, with flame tips. I prefer to think I'm an Angora, but I'll keep the flame tips. Don't I have the most beautiful tail? My favorite foods include expensive deli turkey, more expensive deli turkey, KFC, and whatever's in those little purple designer tins. Fagin, that puritanical kill-joy I live with, doesn't know what he's missing. But he doesn't have to get his teeth brushed -- yet.

 
 

Fagin: The kitchen is my loudspeaker. Whenever I want my person-mom to listen up, I climb up on top of the refrigerator and yowl. Acoustics are better up there. Mom spends way too much time wiggling her fingers on various keyboards and not enough time with me in my very favorite place, which is the bathroom. I like to get brushed while I'm on the counter. My routine is to knock over every toiletry within reach of my powerful tail. Everyone thinks it's cute. And I don't eat anything weird. Dry, low ash, is just fine. JoJo gets her breakfast in bed, but my mind is set on higher things, like getting brushed and talked to. JoJo's always giving herself a manicure, but I have no claws. My mom-person rescued me from those people who did that to me, who then abandoned me. But I'm a big cat and I know if anyone gives me trouble I can, in my gentlemanly way, just sit on him. Problem solved.