Henry (orange) is five; Simon (black) is nearing 13. Simon was inherited from a friend who died. I loved him so much before she died that it was her wish that I should have him. If Simon were a person, he'd be an asshole. He's selfish, arrogant, stubborn, insecure, greedy and bad-mannered and absolutely the dumbest cat I've ever known. However: he is beautiful, and when he's happy (i.e. belly full), he is a contentment machine. He is a wonderful bedmate -- hot solid purring action all night. An interesting feature of Simon: he stomps. He walks down the hall overhead, and I can't tell if it's my 190-pound husband or my 20-pound cat. Sounds pretty much the same. And when he goes downstairs it's like a tumbling bag of rocks.
Henry is mild-mannered, clearly the dominant cat in food and litterbox habits, but really laid back about it and in no need to flaunt his authority. He is of average intelligence. He'll do teddy-bear-on-my-lap shenanigans for maybe two or three minutes, and then he's had enough. He is a high-quality dear cat. I adopted him without having met him -- a neighbor of a friend took him in and had him neutered; I picked him up at the vet and he was mine. I only knew he was an orange tabby and his name was Henry. Tell me, did you ever meet an orange tabby who didn't have a friendly disposition? Maybe that's racist, but it has been my experience.
It's kind of a miracle that the two get along so well. Simon has terrorized two previous cat-roommates, both very submissive, the kind who ask to be beaten up. Simon, because he's a pussy-bully, obliged. Henry never beat up his weaker siblings. Confident, gentle, a class-act, a mensch. Simon wouldn't dare mess with him. Except to poke him with his tail when they're spooning or yin-yanging.
