Duchamp and Jackson

Duchamp and Jackson

 

 

Duchamp is on the right. Jackson, his pal, shown here when I first got him in 2012.

Duchamp belonged to my former neighbors, who were having relationship issues. He was an inside kitty, but he kept getting out. One day, I saw he was outside, and I scooped him up and took him to the neighbor's door. 

That was when I learned the guy's girlfriend had fled, and he needed to find homes for about 5 cats, most of them kittens. The guy said, "which one do you want?" He was holding Duchamp lovingly in his arms at the time. 

I said, "that one," nodding at Duchamp. The guy said, "he's my favorite, but okay."  Duchamp is my ambassador, greeting everyone who enters "his" domain. He's been with me for 9 years, and is the most snugly cat I've ever had. 

When I'm in my writing chair, he is usually on my lap. He sleeps next to me every night. He likes to knock objects off tables, especially when I'm writing.

Nick names: Duchamp DuBarry, Mr. Duchamp.

(He's named after Marcel Duchamp, the artist)

The kitty I had when Duchamp entered the picture had died, and I had a talk with my gray boy. Did he want another brother, or did he want to be the only cat?

 

I sensed his answer was, "get me a friend." Coincidentally, a coworker's cat just had kittens, and Jackson was the only one not yet adopted. He already had the name, so I tagged him Jackson Pollock, after the artist (but without issues).

Jax is the opposite of his brother, and hides when anyone enters his abode. He is the sweetest and goofiest guy on the planet. He greets me when I get home by rubbing his chin all over me and purring loudly. 

To get his attention, I whistle the theme from The Sting. I don't know how it got started, but he loves that tune. He has never knocked anything off a table, as he is a perfect gentleman.

Nicknames: Jax, Jax-a-million, Mr. Jax.