The ginger is Sunny, and he is an old man adopted from the RSPCA, months after his first hooman died, and my own 12 year old ginger passed from pancreatic cancer. I call him Fluff Butt, Floofus and Furbag, but at 4 am in the morning, he thinks his name is “Fucking shut up, cat!”. It has taken 2 years since I adopted him, for him to make eye contact or to even purr, but I’m pretty sure he loves me now! He never misses pat and brush time. I think his previous hooman was a woman, and I’m male, so it was a big change along with the grieving. I love him! The voidie is Zebby and he belongs to a neighbour, but has bonded to Sunny and myself and eats, plays, sleeps at our place. If he’s not harrassing Sunny, he is glued to my ankle, or asleep in my lap. I call him shithead, meatball, stinky cat and other such endearments, but he is the most loving cat I’ve ever known. When he spots me outside, even if he is with his actual owner, or the girls up the road who fawn over him, he will instantly RUN to me, and as he gets closer, his tail goes from horizontal to vertical, and as he arrives he jumps so his head contacts my hand, because he simply can’t wait for me to bend and pat him. At such times, I call him Dancer or Prancer because he looks like he’s dancing around me. I think it breaks his owners heart but she is very gracious about it, even offering to bring food for him so I am not out of pocket. I have great neighbours, both feline and human. Edit: I just recently found out that Sunny visits Zebby’s owner every day for pats, so the circle is complete :)