Michael And Rochelle's Site We're crazy (in love) and we want to share it with you!
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About Our Family Basta, Luigi! was the constant exclamation of a woman to her son during our train ride from Rome to Chiaviri. We decided that Basta would be the name of our next cat. Basta (aka The Bastinator) is Michael's cat, he chose her from the sad halls of the San Francisco Pound. She loves Michael and believes that his every waking hour should be spent in "the brain" -- our computer room -- where other cats rarely dare to tread. She has learned to almost tolerate the other cats, even though she doesn't really understand what they are doing in her house. Billie Wilder -- When she accompanied Michael to the pound so that he could find Basta, Rochelle met and fell in love with a sleek young kitty. Michael, with his blind love for Basta and silly belief that we should only have two cats, refused to let Rochelle bring home the lovely Billie Wilder. He sentenced poor Billie to another week in solitary confinement before, in the face of Rochelle's whining, he finally broke down and agreed that if she was still there, Billie could come home. Billie is now the sweetest, best behaved of the entire household (yes, this includes Michael and Rochelle). She is graceful and elegant but, under the influence of a little 'nip, earns her last name. Luigi -- Basta never took to the second part of her name, so when we picked out a new boy kitty to replace Cecil, we sort of fell into calling him Luigi. His original name was Habib, which means "love", which turns out to have been appropriate. Although he spent the first weeks hiding under our bed, he has turned into a great bed kitty, always ready to snuggle up and purr. His only problem is that Billie has not yet decided she loves him (read: she runs away from him all the time), but he loooooves Billie. An unrequited love is always painful, especially when it comes with claws. Gone But Not Forgotten Cecil was the Number One Son. At fifteen he was the eldest of the clan, and the oldest cat we've ever had. He was old and cranky, wanted his meals on time, his litter box really clean, and he prefered that you to open the back door for him so that he did not have to lower himself to use the cat door. He had a slight limp from when he broke his hip, was allergic to fleabites but hated his flea medicine. But we loved him because he was a Buddha kitty with intelligent eyes. He slept next to Rochelle so she would rub his belly. He passed away from stomach cancer in November 2002. Tex (Tex-R-ific) -- This one just came in the cat door and refused to leave. Apparently, she tried to move into other houses but like so many San Franciscans, kept getting evicted. Tex lurked about the block, casing joints, then finally discovered a cat door to heaven: always-full food bowls and a nice soft bed. Sure, there were other cats that she had to dodge and every day people returned and threw her out, but she knew they would eventually tire of such behavior. Poor little Tex was a little crazy from her months on the streets and she yowled like crazy when you pet her. Sadly for us, but good for her, we sent Tex to The Big House after we regretfully concluded that she could not leave Cecil alone to enjoy his golden years, chasing him constantly and making him miserable. Now she lives in a Beverly Hills mansion, with a bedroom larger than ours, and three litterboxes which are cleaned every day.