here.
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So, remember the other day when I was talking about cat names? And how I added “But it won’t be anytime soon, so don’t get excited?” Yeah. Riiiiiiight.
About a week ago Fred said, very casually, “Maybe we should think about getting another cat…” I just gave him a “shut UP” look, since he’s prone to suggest things that will get me all excited and then telling me he was just making conversation (for example, the time he said “If you got a new car, what would you want?” Bastard.). A few nights later, he brought it up again. Then, like I mentioned last week, we had the conversation about cat names.
The funny thing is that he was always the one to bring it up. This is funny because back at the end of the summer when Fancypants first went missing, we had a long conversation about whether we’d ever adopt another cat, and King Fred’s stance was “We don’t need another stinkin’ cat!”
All I can guess is that he remembered how damn fun and funny kittens can be, with their unending energy and playfulness.
Friday afternoon, he finally convinced me that we should drive out to the shelter (the ones that the pet store cats come from) and take a look around. The shelter’s about half an hour from where we live, which gave Fred plenty of time to change his mind, but he never wavered.
We got to the shelter – it’s a house converted into a shelter, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that – and began looking. In the first room we visited, there was a small black long-haired kitten named Debby that caught my eye. She was a feisty little thing, but when I picked her up she settled right in and began purring loudly. She was probably about two months old and adorable as could be. Fred wasn’t as taken with her as I was – and she couldn’t be adopted yet anyway, since she hadn’t been fixed – so we kept looking.
Folks, there are over 70 cats at this shelter, every age, every color, any kind of cat you could imagine, it was there. There were SO many kittens, especially black kittens, that we couldn’t believe it. We went from room to room, picking up and playing with cats, but none of them really catching our fancy.
The last room we were in was the room where they keep all of the older cats. There were probably 20 cats in the room, and as I stopped to pet one of the black cats, a tabby named Alice jumped up on the table, purring like mad, and put her front paws on my chest.
I loved her, but we had agreed that we were going to adopt a kitten rather than an older cat, only because kittens tend to adapt better when brought into a situation where there are already adult cats present. The adult cats tend to adapt better to kittens, as well, if only because they can establish their authority. That’s been our experience anyway.
A few weeks ago on the pet store kitties blog, I posted a picture of a cat that wasn’t actually at the pet store, but I’d seen his picture on the shelter’s page, and thought it was so funny that I put
the picture up on the blog anyway. His name was Paw Paw.
“Is Paw Paw here at the shelter?” Fred asked the woman who runs the shelter.
“He is,” she said. “He’s in the bathroom, quarantined from the other cats because he has an upper respiratory infection, and he’s on medication.”
Fred still wanted to see him, so she led us to the bathroom, where he was curled up in a cat bed. He began purring loudly as soon as Fred picked him up, and he was purring so loud that his little cheeks were puffing in and out. He was laid-back enough so that he didn’t mind being passed back and forth, and we could see a little glint of the devil in his eyes.
We talked about it for a moment, but the decision was pretty much made the first time he wagged his stubby little tail. After the paperwork was filled out and the fee was paid, we popped him in a carrier (for the first time ever when adopting a cat, we’d brought our own carrier), and headed for home. He howled occasionally, but was mostly quiet.
And so I present to you, the newest member of the And3rson family. We haven’t decided on a name yet, but when we do, I’ll definitely let you know.
He likes hanging out on our bed.
We think he kinda looks like a little lion (Fred thought that naming him “Simba” was one of my stupider ideas)
Miz Poo is very curious about the kitten. Also, very freaked out.
She kept a very close eye on him all weekend, following him around and smacking him when she felt the situation warranted a good smack.
The kitten is very fond of the cat beds. Spanky is less than fond of the kitten, and refuses to sleep near him in case the kitten jumps on him. Which the kitten has done, more than once.
I love the way his paws look like they’re tinged blue.
The other cats, as you can imagine, were a bit freaked out. They’d just gotten over the visit from Gizmo a few weeks ago, and now there was another interloper! They’ve been hissing hysterically and swatting at him when he gets too close. I feel sorry for him, because all he wants to do is PLAY, and our fuddy-duddy cats won’t play with him.
It’s funny as hell to see him run at them and jump on them, though. I thought I was going to pass out last night when he ran across the bedroom and jumped on Tubby’s back. Tubby, as you can imagine, was somewhat less amused.
He is absolutely a little hellion. He’ll run back and forth from one end of the house to the other, turn around and do it again. If there’s something to be climbed, he’ll climb it. If there’s something to be batted around, he’s your man. The first night we had him, after Fred (the bastard) had wandered off to bed, the kitten woke me up every two hours by pouncing on my feet and grabbing and kicking at them. When he wasn’t doing that, he was running around making the other cats hiss and growl at him. The second night, he was marginally less active – only attacked my feet twice – and last night, he slept most of the night through.
He’s not a lap cat – by which I mean, he’s not interested in sitting in your lap and being petted all the time – but if you pick him up for a snuggle, he’s happy to snuggle with you for a while. He can be a total hellion, but he’s so damn funny that we find ourselves laughing at him an awful lot. This morning, he sat on the back of the chair in our bedroom, and then FLUNG himself at the blinds (I’m not sure why), and when he hit the blinds Spot, who was laying in a cat bed across the room, popped up and out of the cat bed like a popcorn kernel. It was funny as hell.
He’s definitely a good fit for our family.
Edited to add: He’s four months old. We aren’t sticking with the name “Paw Paw” because he needs an “S” name to fit in with the other cats. I suggested both “Stubby” and “Stumpy” to Fred, but Fred said, all disapprovingly, that that would be making fun of his disability. Hmph.
(There are more pictures of him
here and
here.)
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