choosing from among perfection

How could I possibly choose just one? There is no way to choose from among perfection. So I will not.

Isis is my tiny angel. My little warrior goddess. She was a laughable excuse for a nine month old cat when I first saw her. Weighing in at a whopping three pounds with a kink in her tail where she had been slammed in a door. She walked like a supermodel, with her hind feet crossing in front of each other. A tiny, plain and serious tabby. And she is beautiful. The damage in her tail and hips is mostly hidden now, and she's filled out to a lovely six pounds. The vet says she would probably have been bigger if she'd gotten enough food as a kitten. She stands guard while I sleep. She looks so serious, in a way that seems incredibly un-feline. She is very cautious, but she trusts me. It is a gift more precious than any material thing.

Pudgy is my ridiculous clown. My lovebug. She's the fat one at nine pounds, though I'm probably being mean. Her belly is the only sign she carried a litter before she was even nine months old. She loves everyone. Every stranger is her new best friend, and she will nurse on your skin if you scratch her just above her tail. A sign she wasn't with her mother long enough, or wasn't weaned properly. She likes to sit on the couch, or in my lap, or any available lap. She will pout if she can't sleep with me in bed. She is a fantastic explorer of boxes and trees. She makes me laugh every day. Bliss itself in a soft, furry bundle.

And Edward. Edward is my big boy. Edward is love, and when I almost lost him last summer, I thought he must be oxygen too. I couldn't breathe thinking he would die. He is gigantic, and sweet and gentle. His whole world revolves around me in way that makes me feel small. How could I ever be big enough to fill his whole world? He loves to snuggle on the couch and hates that we live somewhere where he can't sleep in bed with me (my apartment has a loft with a ladder). He cried at night when we first moved in. He loves soft toys, and will steal them from children if given the chance. All soft toys belong to him. Every teddy bear I own is now one of his babies. At the same time, he will defend me with his life. He has defended me, and I cannot doubt how far he will go to protect me. It is the kind of love that makes me want to deserve it. Makes me want to be good enough that I would be worth the effort he gives.

They are perfect. They are what idiot theologians were thinking of when they invented angels, but if I brought a new pet home tomorrow, he or she would be just as perfect and special. There are no bad pets, only bad people.