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Jon Carroll writes abut his two cats, Bucket and Pancho:

There are some parts of the cat deal they really don’t have down yet.

For instance, lap sitting. One likes to have a good lap sit with one’s cat. Although it’s impossible for me to sit in the cat’s lap, I do like it the other way around. Neither Bucket nor Pancho will sit in any lap. They will only rarely come close enough for a good rub.

They don’t purr very much, either. Sometime you can get the faintest hum from one of them, but it doesn’t last long. I’ll bet black cats know how to purr. Maybe I could just hire one for a week or so to give lessons.

Our late pal Hugo wasn’t entirely black – he had a white blaze on his chest, white hairs in his ears, and a few other pale ones here and there – but he would be easily mistaken for a black from above. Groucho is one of those white cats with black blotches. I used to say, “We have a black-and-white cat names Hugo and a white-and-black cat named Groucho.” And I would say, “Hugo is a black cat, but he’s not a black cat, y’know?” And people would know.

Hugo was the one who purred. Groucho didn’t make a sound for many years. Over time, she learned to purr. We believe she learned it from Hugo.

Hugo was, and Groucho still is, a cat who will sit in your lap. Groucho won’t stay for long, but she’s amenable to our form of affection, and/or willing to repay our providing of room and board by tolerating our (okay, my) insistence upon physical contact.

The youngsters are another story. Ringo and ‘Oli are littermates, nearly identical. They’re white with plaid blotches (if you look closely at the grey, you’ll see that there is a faint texture to the coloring). They are, for the most part, uninterested in our touch. At times they are quite resistant to it. When I pick Ringo up, he behaves like an autistic child, tensing up and refusing to make eye contact. ‘Oli a little less so, but it’s the same general mode. Both of them do appear to take the opportunity to look around and behold the world as it appears from their temporary perch six feet up, but they make it clear they aren’t enjoying it much, and they eagerly spring from my clutches as soon as they can manage it. And they do it without clawing, for which I am deeply thankful.

I think it’s because they’re rescue cats, and they were older when we got ’em. We got Hugo and Groucho on the same day; they are not related, but they were both very young when we got ’em. So they were accustomed from a very early age to being picked up, turned upside down, smooched on the belly, and smothered with human attention. Ringo and ‘Oli, I think, came into the world in unfortunate circumstances and didn’t feel as safe, so consequently they’re a little less trusting of the larger creatures who attempt to rule their world.

We are hoping Groucho will teach the boys how to purr. Well, we can hope.

BTW, we also think two cats is optimal, but when we went in search of a new cat to keep Groucho company in her dotage, we came upon an inseparable pair that we couldn’t resist. We’ll be back to two cats again all too soon, but we’re in no hurry. Groucho abides, and Groucho purrs.

Rita says: “I think they are entirely happy gazing at the world from their perches, many perches, and cushions, throughout the house. And they DO come and snuggle, sitting next to us, if not in our laps or with that single paw placed so sweetly on a leg or thigh as Hugo did. But yes, no to little purring.”

And I should also note that there are two black cats on our street who are quite friendly, rubbing up against the legs of neighbors and even total strangers, and even allowing themselves to be picked up.