An Ode to Cats

Oh three little cats...

Yeah, I have no skillz to write an ode to the cats. But I am telling you that these cats are so different:

Twinkle: oldest, thinnest, likes to sit next to the pool and drink chlorinated water, golden fur, purrs soooo much. "You mess with the Twinkle, the Twinkle messes with YOU!"

Trump: whiner, runs away from strangers (when I say run, I meant sprint), raised from a bottle. I tried to hold out my hand to Trump, and he runs runs runs away from me. Actually, he is the first cat I saw because he whines and whines. But when he saw me, he ran behind a lawn chair and peered out to me. Yes, oh kitty cat, I cannot see you when you hide behind things that are see through.

Einstein: Jumped in my lap and though he likes to dig his little kitty paws into my legs, I am happy that he likes me. Sleeps under the same chair. One time when Mama saw him on the prized throne chair of Papa, she swatted him with a newspaper (he took off). Later, she would only give him death glare, and he would take off. Hilarious. Then he started to sleep under the throne chair. Now, it is a different chair. Einstein is nice nice. Nice black kitty.