Megaera showed up out of the blue one day in the spring of 2001, running up and greeting me as though I were an old friend. She was a young cat, maybe five months old, a bit on the skinny side, and very outgoing and affectionate.

It was the usual story. She kept visiting the stray feeder, greeting me with enthusiasm and demanding to be petted, and generally hanging around. She supplemented the feeder rations with a bit of hunting; one day I was looking out the window at a couple of doves in the back yard, when a furry streak suddenly shot across the lawn. There was a flurry of motion, a few drifting feathers, and Meg was trotting away with her dinner held firmly in her jaws.

I finally decided that she needed to be a housecat, and took her in for the usual vetting. When she was spayed, the vet found that she was actually in the early stages of pregnancy, so it's just as well I grabbed her when I did. (She was awfully young to be having kittens, and I really didn't need a package deal.)

Meg settled into the house very easily and quickly struck up a friendship with Anzu, who is about four months her senior. The two of them enjoy raucous games of tag, especially first thing in the morning, and share a common taste for odd items of people-food, preferably stolen. Meg especially enjoys salad greens and broccoli.

Her favorite spot is in the kitchen, either on the counter or in the sink. I frequently have to bodily remove her if I want to use either space; she doesn't seem to mind getting wet, so turning on the sink doesn't faze her at all. She also likes to romp in the bathtub and investigate the faucet if it's dripping, and to drink out of the sink in the bathroom.

She also likes to sit in my lap when I'm working at the computer. This is the only time I hear her purr; she sits there and goes into a sort of trance, kneading and purring for long periods of time. It's very sweet, but can leave my thighs feeling like they've been used as pincushions.