I had the good fortune to adopt two cats in March 2008 from a Humane Society shelter.
Cinnamon is three years old, a marmalade tabby, shy, skittish, delicate, with baby-like fur, and the instigator of all things naughty. She loves anything stuffed with catnip and crunchy Friskies treats. She is deathly afraid of the vacuum cleaner and televisions. In nine months she's snuck into the garage 3 times and it takes forever to coax her back into the house.
Her younger sister is Kit-Kat, a calico tabby who has two speeds: Off and High. Kit-Kat is two years old, has thick, glossy fur, and can't pass up a toy if her life depended on it. She has already used up a number of her 9 lives, one of which was expended by flying off my second-floor loft without a parachute, and landing on a table lamp one story below.