Regular readers will know, because I’ve mentioned it like three times, that I lost a cat recently. I still feel sad every time I check my Facebook memories
(why do I do this to myself?) or accidentally scroll too far back in the
pictures on my phone.
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| :'( |
The silver lining in this cloud is that it gives me an
excuse to get a new kitten.
I let the manfriend pick him out, although I’m not sure he
actually understands how serious that makes us. You know things are getting
serious with a person when I’m letting them pick out kittens.
The manfriend wants to name him Connor, but I’d like to name
him Trip Hazard, Trip for short. I’ve actually been calling him Little, because
he’s sooo little, and also he seems
to respond to it.
I brought him home on Monday, and he’s starting to settle
in.
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| Fatty is only mildly irritated by this situation. |
Max is still afraid of him, bless his anxious little heart,
but Fatty is starting to show some interest…or possibly disinterest, considering that he hasn’t started biting him yet.
For the first two days I had Little here, he refused to get
off my lap/chest/shoulder, which was kind of annoying, for two reasons: 1) he’s
got the foulest freaking gas I’ve ever smelled, and 2) it’s hard to get any
writing done when a kitten is tromping all over your keyboard.
I thought, He’s young
and freaked out. He’s in a new place and wants comfort. Also, I’m the only
other living thing in the house that’s being nice to him right now. So, I tolerated
it and tried to make time to cuddle and hold him. He’d usually settle down and
go to sleep on my boob-shelf after a while, leaving me free to do other things
with my hands.
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| He's a monkey. |
But then, yesterday, I went out for a while and came home to
this:
My sweet, loving, affectionate, tiny kitten with the huge
purr…has been using me for my chair. Just like the other two little bastards.
But here’s the thing – he just got here. How
does he already know about the chair!?
