I have adopted two wonderful cats with two very different stories.

Isabella, a tiny gray-black shorthair, is an absolute sweetheart, but had a very rough kitten hood. When we found her in a park, a crow three times her size was viciously attacking her - it was one of the most disturbing sights I've ever seen. We scared away the crow and took her home, where vets Yuri and Valeria came over to examine her. Her injuries weren't life-threatening, but she was barely a month old, so for the first few weeks I carried her with me everywhere in a cotton shopping bag. She was quite content to curl up on a towel in the bag and sleep while I wandered around town, and even came to work with me.

Eventually I had to start leaving her at home, which is when I adopted ZenZen, a huge furry gray and white Houdini who has learned how to open cupboards and drawers. Any day now I expect him to take my car on a joyride. He was one of a litter found in the Allied Pickfords moving warehouse, and is about a week older than his new sister. Izzy and Zen have a great time chasing one another around and knocking things over, which after all is what cats do. They're almost two years old now, and I can't imagine life without them.