Quite honestly, even though I can't resist a kitten, I was not in the market for another cat (my casita is waaaayyyy too small), when a friend of mine e-mailed me and asked if I'd be willing to save a small black kitten from the pound. You see, a mutual friend had found this kitten wandering about alone, fell in love, and took him in. This same mutual friend later realized that his roommate, who owned the condo that they shared, didn't want the cat in his house. The cat had to go, or both of them had to go. Rather than losing the roof over his head, this mutual friend hunted around for a sucker to adopt the kitten. That sucker is the woman you see pictured here!

Most of the time I turn to instant mush when I see kittens, but Desmond had such a hideous meow, and quite frankly, aside from being a tiny cat, he wasn't very cute. So, it took a little while before he grew on me. Now he's an indespensible part of my household.

He still doesn't have a very cute meow, though.

About Desmond

Friends and family thought that "Desmond" was a funny name for a cat. Everyone assumed that I'd give him a name in Latin or dead Greek, as Feles bears such a name. It's a little known fact that Desmond's middle name is actually Ailouros, which is a word for "cat" in Greek.

Actually, the name Desmond just seemed to fit him. It comes from the Beatles song "Ob-la-di Ob-la-da", a song I was hopelessly addicted to at the time. When I named him, I jokingly said that I should get another cat and call her Molly... lo and behold, not a year afer acquiring Dezz, Molly came into my life.

In his youth , Desmond was a psycho-kitten in full force. When he was actually awake, he was VERY awake, tearing across my tiny casita, back and forth, back and forth, leaving a trail of black fur on my white carpet. He loved his stuffed catnip fish on a spring, only tatters now. Age has mellowed him quite a bit. He still loves to play, although he's developed a fondness for flashlights. He also enjoys wrestling with Molly. Otherwise he's settled into the

But when Desmond sleeps, he's the luvviest thing on the planet. His favorite sleeping place is at my side, just under my arm, where he can rest his snoozing head on my shoulder. When I get home from a long day's work (or even when I come home for lunch), Dezz is ready for bed, because bed means that this mistress will shower him with pets until he eventually falls asleep, purring, as close as he can. He'll give me a pleading look and then run and jump on the bed. Then he'll meow a bit til I join him. If I don't get the hint, he'll try it all over again.

Name: Desmond Ailouros
Breed: generic black cat
Age:6ish
Weight: What started out as a long lanky cat has balooned into quite a large-sized feline
Sex: Never had it, never will
Marital Status: Single
Number of Lives Remaining: 8
Favorite Rivals: Catfood; I've never seen a cat hork so much!
Catfood of Choice: M'yah-owww; at least that's what he asks for by name. I don't think it's Meow Mix, but I haven't quite learned how to understand Meow
Favorite Place: Curling up under Melz arm, sitting in front of the window
Known Aliases: Roo, Rooster, Dezzaroo, Dezz, Dez-mund, Dezzy
Favorite Activities:

• begging for catfood
• eating
• chucking up a hairball
• eating
• sleeping
• eating
• swatting at flashlight beams
• eating
• sleeping in cardboard boxes
• eating
• snugging with Mel
• eating
• chewing on Molly
• eating
• chasing packing peanuts like a madcat
• eating
• and of course, eating

Desmond and his sucker of a mistress share a tender moment (okay, so Dezz is struggling and obviously upset...)

As a kitten, Desmond wasn't very cute. He was twiggy with really big ears.

Desmond used to really enjoy his naps with Feles, much to Feles's dismay.

All grown up; Desmond kept that red collar for a total of ONE day; it hasn't been seen since!

Dezzy, wearing red collar number 2 (which also hasn't been seen since), tries his hand at the bass guitar.

Desmond, age 6, no longer a spring chicken; no longer a skinny kitty either. I think he has a double-chin. Perhaps that is where his red collars may be hidden...