Batman was originally my wife's, rescued from a house where a family had been hoarding cats, letting them breed and not taking proper care of them. Originally named Batman because of his ability to suddenly disappear and hide in furniture, he lived as an outdoor cat for several years before she moved to the city and we met. At first, he would stand guard when I came over, making it clear that he had his eye on me, but eventually I would find him excitedly waiting by the door for snuggles and butt pats when he heard my car. Now 15 years old, he loves to nap on his favourite giant penguin or mama's lap while silently judging his surroundings.

Fun Fact: I always imagine his inner monologue as Japanese and speak it to him constantly.
D'Artagnan (aka Kitten, aka Lovebug, aka Kitty-kitty-kitten, aka Dumbass)
D'Artagnan probably thinks his name is actually Kitten since that's what my wife will call him no matter how old he gets. He was actually supposed to be a kitty for me, back when Batman was still more attached to her. This arrangement lasted approximately three hours until he curled up in her armpit and refused to leave until the next morning. We don't know why he ended up at the shelter, but what we do know is that she had made it clear she didn't want A) a black cat, because Batman is white and she wanted at least some clothes to appear fur-free, B) another boy cat and C) a kitten. D'Artagnan was all three, but immediately stole our hearts anyway.

Fun Fact: He looks black most of the time, but turns a beautiful chocolatey brown when he stretches out in a sunbeam.
Jax (aka Jaxxybear, aka Plumpkin)
We were not planning on a third cat. I met Jax at the pet food store where I buy litter. They have a program where they foster kitties and keep them in the store for short periods of time so people can apply to adopt them. Whenever I'm there, I always make sure to snuggle all the kitties that are there. Jax (then James) had been brought in with his sister who he was very close to. She got adopted but he didn't, and he was very upset after she got taken away, developing anxiety and meowing loudly all day. When I took him out and snuggled him he would calm down immediately, but I was worried people wouldn't give him the chance because of the noise. A couple weeks later I came in and saw he wasn't there, and was told he'd been sent back into foster care because he had no applications. I called my wife from the car, applied for him immediately and picked him up that night. He got over his anxiety and became the suckiest cat of all time once he settled in and trusted that we were his forever family.

Fun Fact: Assumes he's starving to death if we feed him at 8:05 instead of 8, meowing about how his soul will be taken to Kibbleheim, where the brave shall snack forever!
