I have been rescuing animals for as long as I can remember. It started at a very early age and it drove my mother nuts. Birds, snakes, lizards, rabbits, squirrels, dogs, cats, you name it. If it was hurt or needed a home, it found one with me.

My children aren't any different. They have been dragging home pets most of their lives too. Anthony has always favored cats whereas Ryan is more like me and not a bit partial to any one type or breed. My friends and I used to marvel at the attraction Ryan was himself to animals. Squirrels that would crawl up on him as  he played in the yard or birds that would just land on him. It was always an amazing sight to see. I used to call him my Daniel Boone baby.

Needless to say this "affliction" that the three of us have has always meant a home full of pets. I have always had the ability to know when to say no, enough is enough. Unfortunately this is not the case for either one of my children.

Both of my sons are grown and no longer live with me. But that has not stopped them from dragging pet after pet into my household. Some of them I have been able to find homes for and others have remained with me. Some are with me still. Ryan has always been the worst.

There was a brief time in my life when we had no pets. I was married to a man who was such a clean freak there was no way anything with fur was allowed in our home. Even an aquarium for fish was out of the question. Thankfully the relationship was brief.

The first thing the boys and I did was get a fish tank. They were cheap, easy to keep cleaned up after, and there was no one to tell us we couldn't.

One fine day in 2001, shortly after my divorce, they blew in the door thrilled to show me something they had wrapped in a shirt. I was hesitant to look, for with my children, I just never knew what they might surprise me with.

Low and behold it was a tiny black kitten that couldn't have been more than 6-8 weeks old. And she was the tiniest little thing.

"Can we keep her mom? Can we huh? Can we please? Huh? Huh? huh?"

My first reaction was "no", which was instantly met with "WHY?" in chorus.

I thought to myself, "Good question. Why not?" but quickly countered with, "my checkbook is almost empty. Do we really need another mouth to feed?"

You know the answer was a resounding "YES!"

I thought what the hell. There's no one to tell us no pets anymore. The boys had been almost 5 years without one, and I too missed having a furry companion in the house.

Enter Cleo.

On first glance she appeared to be completely black, but boy were we in for a surprise.

The boys had found her alone roaming a storm drain near the park, a place where they spent a great deal of time adventuring. They said they looked for a momma cat or other kittens and had only found this little girl. She was a little wild but not really feral acting.

She wasn't happy about that first bath, but she wreaked and the results were amazing. I don't know what she was covered with but she certainly wasn't solid black by nature. When the black washed away we found that she was a fluffy Tabby/ Main Coon mix with gorgeous green eyes and the most adorable tufts in her ears.

Needless to say I completely emptied my checkbook that night at Wal Mart buying supplies for our new found princess.

"Cleo-Pat-the-cat" was home and instantly became the queen of the roost.

IMG_0033-CleoS She's now been with me for 12 years. She's loving when it suits her but still very catty by nature.

Although she tolerates the additional pets that have come to live with me, she's a narcissist and still believes the world revolves totally around her. I suppose that's my fault, and the boys, as we have always treated her as such.

People who visit, even those not so crazy about cats, take pause to address Miss Cleo. Even big bad guys in uniforms pay attention to her. She demands it. They comply.

I wouldn't have her any other way.

Following Cleo came an array of fish for the aquarium. Cleo didn't mind. They gave her something to be mystified with when the boys or I weren't giving her our undivided attention. She enjoyed the heat when laying atop the hood of the tank, and the occasional batting at the fish when she was bored. For awhile we had one fish in particular that responded in kind and actually seemed attracted to her.

When Cleo was about 2 years old I found myself confronted by one of my co-workers, Matt, who was moving and began begging me to take a male cat he had and couldn't keep. He was moving, couldn't afford the pet deposit at his new place, had a new baby, blah, blah, blah.

At first I told him no but he literally begged me to meet Eddie, named after Eddie Van Halen. He'd had him since he was a kitten, brought him all the way from his home when he came to college here, so small he made the trip in his shirt pocket. He was two years old, very healthy if not a little fat, and was neutered. They were buds. He wanted Eddie to go to a great home and according to him, my home was it.

When I questioned his as to why he though I should be the one to take on his cat, he told the most amusing story.

He said that sitting on the other side of a cubical from me for over a year, he always heard me talking about my boys and Cleo. He said for the longest time he thought I had two sons and a daughter having heard the name of my boys and Cleo so many times. One day as he was coming to my desk to drop off some paperwork he noticed the photos that littered my cubical. He seen the boys images all over the place and asked my cubical mate why I had no photos of my daughter. Cindy told him I didn't have a daughter, I only had the two boys. He was confused but went on about his way.

The following afternoon Matt returned to my desk, while I was away, and asked Cindy about my children. She told him again that I only had the two sons and seeing his confusion she asked why all the questions about my children. He explained that he always heard me talking about my boys and Cleo.

Cindy almost brought the entire department to our section in her sudden burst of hearty laughter. Matt remained confused. Then Cindy told him that Cleo was my cat and pointed out the numerous photos on my desk of Cleo.

That was it for Matt. He was convinced that Eddie should come to live with me when he moved away. He said that anyone who spoke as fondly as I did about a pet was surely someone he could trust with his precious Eddie.

After a couple of days of pleading and begging from Matt I finally agreed to meet Eddie. I told him Cleo enjoyed being the only fur kid in the house and she just wouldn't take kindly to a new addition. I made no promises.

Needless to say, I met Eddie. He demanded my attention as soon as I walked in the door, laid around on me the whole time I was at Matt's and "talked" to me almost constantly. I'd never seen such a vocal cat. He's even pause between meow's as if he was waiting for my reply. So when I left Matt's apartment that afternoon, Eddie came along.

I hoped  the fact that he was neutered, and that he and Cleo were about the same age, that Cleo would be less put out by the new member of our family. The boys w ere most certainly pleased when I entered the house with him.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Cleo was livid and spent the next 3 days living on top of the refrigerator hissing and batting at me every time I walked by. If Eddie got within 10 feet of her she would growl and make noises I had never heard her make before. They were not instant friends.

It took awhile, several weeks actually, for Cleo to tolerate Eddie's presence. And just about the time I thought they would never get along, after all the late night cat fights and bawling, the turmoil stopped. 11:00 p.m. each night became prime play time. You could almost set a clock by them.

Eddie fit right in eventually. The boys loved him, Cleo loved him, and yes, I loved him too.

He's the big boy in the house and loves nothing more than to talk to anyone who will listen, be in your lap every chance he gets, and is more than happy to fight you for a bowl of potato salad or chicken soup.

Eddie is also my big camera ham, which I enjoy very much.

We've taken in other cats from time to time, but were able to find homes for those. Cleo and Eddie have been with me so long it's for sure they are here to stay until they take their last breath, or I take mine.

Since Cleo and Eddie, my fur family has grown, in great part due to my youngest son. But their stories are for another time.