Entropy and Zeta spend a great deal of time in the same small space and very little of it doing the same thing. Seven photographs, March through September, catalogue the settings: a bookshelf, a desk, the toilet, the office bin, the kitchen floor, and the catio.
March, and a bookshelf, repurposed without consultation. Entropy has the upper shelf, paws hung over the edge beside a stack of paper. Zeta, directly below, has the cushioned one, and is looking at the camera rather than at him.
A week later, the desk: both asleep in the cable clutter beside a monitor, one of them very nearly the color of the cables.
May, the toilet lid. One of them is nose-first into the roll on the holder. The other is watching the camera with open suspicion.
Later that month, the office. Entropy is on his back inside the bin, paws up, entirely at his leisure. Zeta, much nearer the camera, is not involved.
Early September, dinner over, the bowls still out behind them: both cats straight into maintenance on the kitchen floor, one flat out and thorough, the other more upright about it.
And this week, the catio, twice in five minutes. First, something close to a formal portrait through the wire: both of them facing the lens, for once.
Five minutes later: Entropy stretched out on the upper platform, Zeta a level down beside the cubby box, each at ease and neither paying the other any attention.
Seven months, six settings, one working theory: they share the space by choice and the activity by coincidence.