I have three cats and I am absolutely unhinged about all of them.

This is not news to anyone who knows me. I am a cat dad. I talk about my cats. I show people pictures of my cats. I have strong opinions about each of their personalities and I will share those opinions whether or not you asked. You’re reading this, so technically you asked. Here we go.

Ramona: The Secret Sweetheart

Ramona claimed me from the moment we picked her up. Just looked at me and decided “this one’s mine” and that was that. I didn’t get a say. I didn’t need one.

She’s a secret sweetheart, which means if you come to our house, you will not meet Ramona. She does not do strangers. She has better things to do, like not exist in your presence. But when it’s just us? She’s a different cat entirely.

She sits on my chest while I’m trying to read. She lays across my wrists while I’m trying to type. She parks herself next to me and purrs like a little motor that runs exclusively on my attention. Sarah gets the occasional Ramona acknowledgment—a rare honor—but mostly? Ramona is my cat, and she wants everyone to know it.

(She doesn’t want strangers to know it. They don’t deserve that information.)

Jeff: The Sweetest Boy in the World

Jeff is Sarah’s boy, and he is seventeen pounds of exotic shorthair perfection.

He’s a gentle giant who has somehow forgotten that he loves being on the bed. Every single night, he goes into the bedroom before us and settles into a box in the corner. A box. When there’s a whole bed right there. And every single night, I lift him up onto the bed, and we have a little chat until he lays down and remembers that actually, yes, this is wonderful, why did he ever doubt this.

Jeff has a basket on the kitchen counter. We did not intend for this basket to live on the counter permanently. But Jeff decided it was his, and so now there’s a cat basket on our counter because that’s just how things work around here. You don’t argue with Jeff. You accommodate Jeff.

He loves getting kisses on his head. He loves being pet. He loves just… being around. He has no dumb habits. Only big, smart habits like claiming furniture and training his humans to lift him onto comfortable surfaces. Respect.

Frank: A Busy Guy

Frank is our youngest, and he has energy.

He thinks he’s in charge. The other cats have made it very clear that he is not, in fact, in charge. Frank remains unconvinced. He’s out here running the place in his own mind while Ramona and Jeff watch him with the weary patience of elder statesmen dealing with an overenthusiastic intern.

Frank will snuggle, but on his terms. He comes to you when he wants love, and you’re expected to know exactly when he’s done. There’s no warning. One second you’re petting a happy cat, the next second you’ve overstayed your welcome and Frank has places to be.

And those places? Usually his moonbase.

The moonbase is two tubes covered in a blanket and tissue paper. Frank goes in there and loses his entire mind. I don’t know what happens in the moonbase. I don’t think humans are meant to know. It’s Frank’s space, and whatever goes on in there fuels his endless laps around the house and his conviction that he is the one running this operation.

The Whole Situation

So that’s the crew. Ramona, who chose me and tolerates everyone else. Jeff, who needs to be reminded that beds are nice and has claimed permanent counter real estate. Frank, who is busy, thank you very much, and will let you know if he needs anything.

They are ridiculous. They are perfect. They are three very different cats who somehow all ended up in the same house with the same two humans who are completely gone for all of them.

I have three cats and zero regrets.