The Fuzzy Mafia

I don't believe I've mentioned yet that I'm involved in Organized Crime. It's only by proxy, really. See, my home is the home of The Fuzzy Mafia.

The Don of this Mafia is one Vito Catalone:

Vito recruited me almost two years ago. An office co-worker's sister's cat had kittens. I looked at the adorable little furballs on the screen, and my eyes locked with Vito's. "That's my cat," I told my co-worker, Chris. "And I'm naming him Vito." And that was exactly what happened.

Vito has a penchant for feather toys. He jumps alarmingly high to get to them, and will chase them until he pants like a dog, at which point I worry and make him stop. He also enjoys taking money he finds around the apartment in his mouth and hiding it, and knocking my pill bottles to the ground and hiding them, I believe so he can sneak out portions to distribute to the kitty community. He does know how to enjoy the finer things in life, however, and has been known to stop and smell the roses:

As does Frankie, formally known as Francesca Linguine, his adopted sister and partner in crime:

Frankie is the most recent addition to the Mafia. She was abandoned at a local vet's office, and posters advertising her sweetness touched my friend Jen. On a lunch hour, we went over to visit her. I asked, "Well, kitty, do you want to go home with me?" Her response was to flop over on the table, issuing a "Rub my belly" command. I was taken, and so was she, and she integrated quickly into the family. Don't let her clawlessness fool you, this girl can be ruthless, as indicated by the spat she gets into with Vito, and her threatening conversations with the birds outside.

Of course, every mafia must have its thug, and ours is Shadow:

Shadow lived a completely innocent life before these two cats. He was a bribe from my mother seven years ago for me not going on a vacation. Good trade, as it turned out, since he's been my best friend ever since, if you'll forgive the cliche.

It was only the introduction of Vito, and then Frankie, that gave Shadow his loveable hitman-lunk status. Before that, he was content to play with his toys, beg for people food, and chase his tail on occasion, much to my rapturous delight. Now, he... well, he still likes all those things, but if the cats order a hit, he's on that, too.

So that's my life of crime, via the pets. It's a hard life, particularly after one of the cats take a stinky poo, but family's family, huh?