17 October 2005 - 11:49 AM
The new kitten is named Maeve. She's about 4 months old. She is settling in nicely, though I think Fergus is somewhat jealous. Still, he's playing with her and everyone will adapt.
She has the usual kitten habits, including waking us up at weird hours of the night by pouncing toes under covers, chasing bits of fluff, and a' that. She is loving and cuddly, ignores the dog, and likes Faust. Faust likes her too.
Last night, she stretched out on the couch downstairs with the dog and the Viking and watched hockey. She seemed to like the fast-moving skittery things on the TV screen.
I was really not intending to get another bluecream longhair. I don't like to get new pets that look 'just like' a pet I've just lost. The animals are individuals. One is not going to replace another.
When we went to the shelter to look at cats, we discussed that, as well as the fact that it would probably be a bad idea to get a cat who looked too much like either Faust or Fergus. When a flash of fur goes by, I like to be able to identify the cat instantly. The Viking also suggested that given the amount of fluff Cosette left around the house, maybe a shorthair would be a good thing for our housekeeping.
So, we looked. And there were orange cats and biscuity-coloured cats, and various black and black-and-white cats, and some brown tabbies like Faust. There were a few calicos and even a flame-point Siamese. But none of those cats were quite right.
Then, as we turned a corner, a paw reached out from one of the lower cages and grabbed hold of the leg of my jeans.
It was a little bluecream longhair. We got one of the volunteers to let her out of her cage so we could play with her a bit. She snuggled into my neck and began to purr. I looked at the Viking. He looked at the kitten.
'I think we've been chosen,' he said.
And thus we filled out paperwork and waited impatiently and at last brought her home. Now you know the rest of the story.