5 min read
It was 2021. We were still facing the pandemic hard in Brazil and I was moving out of my parents house, ready to live with my friends and see how life would work for me. And I had always wanted a cat ever since I was a kid — a fluffy creature to give all my love to —, but my mom wouldn't let me bring one home. Well, now that I had my own home, I could have one.
Just two months after I moved in with my friends, a friend of mine rescued a pair of cat sisters from her street, and, as fate would have it, both of them were pregnant. That’s how I ended up with Xórxi, my black-and-white, cow-patterned first baby — the most perfectly mismatched little guy you could imagine.
I had no idea how wonderful (and hardcore) it would be to watch another creature grow alongside me. Maybe that’s what parents feel with their children — or maybe not. But sharing that space and seeing Xórxi befriend Jade (Marcela’s cat), Oliver (Fernanda’s cat), and Twinky (Carol’s cat) felt magical, like we’d formed our own little tribe. We were four friends and four cats, living together chaotically, like an impromptu commune where anything could happen — and it usually did.
Two years later, life shifted again. I decided to live alone for the first time in my life and moved into a beautiful house, just Xórxi and me. I knew he’d miss the warmth of his cat and human friends — hell, I knew I would. That’s when the cult, the biggest pyramid scheme in history, started taking shape in my own house.
Xórxi needed a sister, I decided. I had a name ready in my mind. But then I saw a picture from a shelter with Zé do Caroço lying between his brother and sister. He was so ugly and adorable, and something about his goggly eyes said, “I belong with you.” And that’s how I ended up with my second baby, a black tiger-pear with legs — a spiky little bundle of energy who fit right into our world — and now is looking GORGE.
They’re polar opposites. Xórxi is my little cow-shadow, reserved and ever-watchful, glaring at visitors like a grumpy doorman who doesn’t want his peace disturbed. Zé, on the other hand, is an absolute tramp. He’ll flop over for belly rubs from strangers, purring like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘friendly neighborhood cat’ in every rom-com. They’re both completely nuts, and somehow, they’re best friends — partners in crime in my tiny, cat-filled kingdom.
You would think two was enough. Right? Well, not quite. I still had the name for Xórxi's sister in my mind, and it was such a good name (for brazilian people, at least), that I couldn't let it go to waste.
And that's how, a year after Zé came to us, we got Ângela Ronron.
She had just become a mother, was very mistreated by life being a black little cat on the streets, and deserved all the love we could give to her and more. She was a bit feral, but how could we judge her? Was I in her life situation, I would be feral too.
And yet, after all, what she needed was a little time, patience and warmth to become the most cuddling cutie pie ever.
Now we were complete. 3 is the magical number, they all live triangulating (there's a theory for cats being triangulated, true story), they are perfect and we don't need more than three. My wife put a strict rule of no more cats in the house.
Until…
Well, one day Ângela had to go to the vet, and when we got there, there was a little onça hanging around, ready to be adopted. I got her in my lap (big mistake) and then… well, the rest is history and now we have four. :D
They are all wonderful, each one with their own ways of getting cuddles, care or attention, and they are the smartest and most perfect cats in the whole world. ❤️
As for me? I treat these four catiços as my babies, and they’ll keep on being babies even when they’re too old and can’t eat or poo by themselves anymore. 🥹
And now… I think four is more than enough, but you never really know how the cat distribution system will work. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯