If my cats were people…
Let’s see. Tigra would be a sweet little old lady. I picture her as being chubby with a nice, soft bosom (just the right kind for resting one’s head on when in need of comforting), and a big soft belly. She would dress in those old-fashioned mid-calf dresses chubby old ladies wear - dark colors with a little floral pattern, and an apron. For some reason, Tigra would always be wearing an apron. She would smell of cookie dough and lilacs. She would wear little gold-rimmed John Lennon-style glasses, and the lenses would always be just a wee bit smudgy. And her glasses would forever be sliding to the end of her pudgy little nose. She would live alone in a tidy little stone house, complete with a white picket-fence and a tree in the front yard with branches constantly laden with the neighborhood children. She would drive a giant old Buick Century, but only when necessary, and never at a speed higher than 15 miles per hour.
Cyrus would be an independent-intelligent-strong-woman dressed to kill in an Armani suit with nary a hair out of place. The type of woman who, upon entering a room, commands the attention of all - without saying a single word. She would live in a fabulous apartment located in Trump Towers. Her refrigerator would usually contain left-over Chinese take-out, a couple of bottles of Corona, a bag of salad mix, mineral water, and lots of condiments. When out on the town, she would don a slinky black dress and wear Chanel No. 5. Cyrus would drink vodka tonics with extra lime, and she would chain-smoke menthol cigarettes. Her dark red lipstick would always be left behind on her glass and cigarette(s), kind of like her own trademark. She wouldn’t have a lot of girlfriends, maybe one really close girlfriend, but lots of male friends. She would have a husky, throaty voice like Kathleen Turner. Oh, and Cyrus would drive a bright red Porsche Carrera GT.
Vernon would be the dirty old man always trying to score with the dames with whom he resides at “The Home.” He would use a walker or a wheelchair, but only when others are looking because he wouldn’t want anyone to know just how spry he really is. The nurses at “The Home” would shake their heads and “Tsk, tsk” at his attempts to cop a feel whenever the time comes to dispense medication. His big green eyes would sparkle with the laughter of his own inside jokes, while at the same time expressing the loneliness of an old man who has outlived all his friends and family. Vernon’s age and poor eyesight would make it impossible to safely operate a car, so he would take the bus whenever he needed to venture away from “The Home.”
Calvin would be an extreme sport athlete wanna-be. He would constantly be taking on the newest sports craze, but his lack of coordination would cause him to constantly give up and then seek something new to try. His muscular body and good looks would make him popular with the girls. That is, until the girls realize that the body is really all he has to offer. Calvin would live in a sparsely furnished studio apartment. He wouldn’t be able to afford anything more than a studio because his short attention span wouldn’t allow him to hold a steady, full-time job. Instead, he would float from one part-time job to another just to make ends meet. His car would be the hand-me-down-family-car he drove while in high school.
I love my cats. 
