The fuzzy one sits on my computer and stares at me. It is not difficult to guess what he wants; he wants me to come to bed. I am out of order, you see. It is late at night, and I am somewhere that he is in disagreement about.
House cats are not like the in "n" out variety. They don't politely sit by the door and hope for results. No. They order you around.
The change came when we started giving them actual names. One Christmas when we were low on funds, we thought a trip to the shelter would be in order. We got the last two kittens they had. Two animals necessitated a change in our naming pattern. We could have gone for "Kitty One," and "Kitty Two," but instead they were dubbed, "Gus," and "Trenton."
Gus was the proverbial scaredy-cat, hiding behind dressers and under couches. Trenton, however, was the neighborhood scrapper, walking arthritically with a torn ear from his many street brawls even at a young age. Both felines sensed the house rule, though: the kitty loo is outside.
A change in employment status led to a change in state residency. Trenton tried to conquer one neighborhood too many, and Gus became a lone cat.