A Brief Introduction to the Lives and Personalities of Prufrock and Annabelle

Annabelle and Prufrock came into our lives in 2007. Prufrock, at first, was a boy. She was larger than her sister, had broader shoulders, and was more outgoing. I know, our assumptions about male character and personality reveal an innate sexism, but I also blame a family member who “worked” at an animal shelter, and, once flipping over, inaccurately sexed Pru as male. I know there is a science and a difficulty to sexing chicks, one that takes years to learn, but in my experience, kittens are almost as hard in determining male or female. (I should also add, I have no experience in sexing anything but humans, and all my knowledge comes from sixth grade “family life.”)

Pru’s masculine undoing came early in her life and could be attributed to her need for belly rubs, especially while one of us sat on the toilet. As I indulged her one day—perhaps also my masculine undoing—I noticed she shared an anatomical likeness with her sister. Prufrock became a girl as quickly as one could jump over a small creek.

Sexism aside, Prufrock did have a particular personality that set her apart from her sister. She was more outgoing, willing to explore, unafraid of unknown noises that fill an apartment in a city. Once she discovered open windows, she would often stare out at the world and emit a small squeak of a meow. And she quickly learned that not all rectangular shapes are window sills, including a large picture frame hanging in the bedroom.

Annabelle in all things was more timid. When she was a kitten she would run and hide under the bed, fall asleep, then wakeup scared because we weren’t around, and come bounding into the living room meowing for us. She once fled from a plastic bag that she caught herself in not knowing the handle was around her neck. She loves the window just as much as Pru, but concerns herself minimally with what’s going on outside, nor does she care about the bugs and moths Prufrock will often chase.

The one thing that Annabelle does regard with the utmost importance is food. Pru never did care much about her food and was content with just about anything we put in front of her. She doesn’t like wet food much; Annabelle eats nothing but wet food—the worse stuff you can buy, nothing natural or organic, manufactured meat bits, and only with the added cheese. If she’s hungry she runs around the apartment, meowing at us, then runs into the kitchen, back out to see if we understand, then back into the kitchen, repeating this move until tuna in gravy with cheese is on plate ready to be lapped up. When they were little we would feed them treats. One time we gave one to Prufrock, and just as she had it in her mouth, Annabelle ran up to her. Prufrock hissed, and in so doing dropped the treat. Annabelle grabbed it in her mouth and scarfed it down.

The oddest thing about these cats is how nice they are. They’ve never purposefully scratched or bit us. When we carry them, they don’t resist. They sleep next to each other, on the same chair or in the same cat bed, especially in winter. On our cross-country trips they sleep in the same carrier. They like to be where we are. I’ve never known cats to be this friendly.