There are two cats strutting in the backyards behind our house that are almost exact copies of our two: identical ginger fur, identical white spots in almost the exact same places. Amazing! It is almost as if a sorcerer took the DNA of our cats, dropped it in a jam jar, shook it vigorously and let it loose in the air above the rhododendrons.
WHAMMY! Two new cats!
There is a difference, however. Those cats are lanky, enterprising, haughty and (I have to admit) very beautiful. Ours have bellies sagging with age, dusty fur and they are shy. They prefer lying on the bench over the radiator under the window, where life passes by without their having to involve themselves in it. The other cats go out on adventures like: how to enter the Arlman cat flap unnoticed.
I used to be jealous of those two on behalf of our own cats. But that seems to be unnecessary. There seems to be a quite friendly understanding between the four siblings. Sometimes our Pudge is sitting on the terrace staring at her spitting image, staring at her. Until one of them gets up, stretches herself and walks away.
Do they recognize the kinship?