Today, our umpteenth trip to the animal shelter, we came home with a parcel.
This is a boy cat. He is a little over a year old. I liked him immediately. After thinking, "Maybe?" about two dozen cats, this was the first one I asked to see in one of the rooms they have for Getting-to-Know-You time. I had all three littles with me, and he was GREAT with them. The littles were loud, and they kept squealing and jumping, and he didn't even flinch. We all pet him and he didn't flinch. The littles played with him with cat toys and he played exuberantly but with no bodily harm. He let me pick him up. I filled out the paperwork and we put him in the cat carrier. I hadn't brought the cat carrier on previous visits, so I'm glad I brought it today. We brought him home. He has since been sniffing every inch of the house.
He has pretty fur patterns. Neither Paul nor I has ever had a cat with this kind of coloring.
He is brave/stupid.
He is a little funny-looking. He is the kind of cat who, new to your house, will sit on your dining room table like he doesn't even know what guest manners ARE. We are calling him "the new kitty" because we don't have a name for him yet.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 2 of 2 - Last week I talked about the gifts we were getting/considering for Edward, who is turning 8 next month. This week it’s Elizabeth’s turn: not “girl gifts,” ...