No, I’m only kidding. It’s hard to believe seven years have vanished since The Twin Princes of Silence took up residency in The House of Mars. Come to think of it until they moved in, the house was known only as “my house.” They were the first two Mars.
Marcel and Marceau?
For newcomers to this blog – the cat brothers earned their names on the day we met. September 11, 2005 – when they rode all the way home from the pet adoption fair in my truck, without uttering a peep (or I guess I should say a meow,) and this was at least twenty miles. You cat owners will vouch for me, won’t you – a cat who doesn’t howl, mewl, or cry the minute their placed in a carrier, let alone, the car? How rare is that? And this was two cats!
With no sound to distract me I went through “quiet” names –
Well how about Chaplin? Nah.
I’ve got it – Marcel Marceau. Yes!
Since one look at the two of them nested like spoons in the adoption cage had been all I needed to interpret the “I’m in charge here” look Marcel shot at me, he got the first name, and Sweet I’m leaning on my brother Marceau got the second name.
A lot has changed since that day, starting with the mute act. These two are the most demandingly talkative cats I’ve ever lived with.
Pet Me! Brush me.
No, my turn.
Wake up, I’m hungry
And in case I don’t get the message, Marcel follows up with a head but while Marceau employs a soft but insistent tap with his front paw.
The Twin Princes of Silence?
Then there’s that sub-title, obviously given to them before the stampedes For no discernible reason, one or the other will take off on a wild tear through the house, and whichever one it isn’t will follow on his heels. Back and forth, room to room, changing directions until Marcos (the canine Mar) lumbers to his feet to investigate. (Thank you Marcos, that always does the trick.) They are still Marceau and Marcel, but the subtitle is now a toss-up – The Wild Horses, or The Twin Princes of Terror.
And in This Corner…….
Like two old bachelor roommates, The brothers know each other’s every move, and quite often a move that is ignored one minute can spark a rip-roaring, roll around the floor battle the next. Screeches fill the air; clumps of fur collect on the ground until curious Marcos once again comes to the rescue, separating them with a sniff and a poke of his nose. Whether on riot patrol or referee, duty, Marcos is worth his weight in dog food.
Speaking of weight, the champion in that category is Marceau. I’m ashamed to say he tipped the scales at eighteen pounds at his last check-up. But we’re trying – he’s on a non-voluntary diet. And Marcel helps. He’s the faster eater, and true to his I’m the bossin charge demeanor, it takes but one nudge to push Marceau away from his food.
Yes, these two are some pair. Inseparable, if not insane. When the fight’s over, the food’s all gone, and they’re plain tuckered out form the chase, there’s nothing like a brother to lean on.
Enough from me. Meet the brothers
And, just in case you ever forget………….