It's been two months since we adopted him, but I wanted to make sure he was a permanent member of the cast before introducing him to my mass audience. So far he hasn't gone Charlie Sheen on us, so he's staying.
Tori's photo of him was taken just one week after we adopted him, and he's gotten a lot bigger since then. But he's still in Kitten Mode, closing in on six months of age.
After Mimi died in November, we weren't keen on replacing her so soon. We needed time to grieve, to let go. But Jack, our psychotabby, became a lot less psycho. After nearly a week of looking everywhere for Mimi - checking the linen closet, under the bed, and sniffing for any fresh sign of our late calico (which broke Tori's and my hearts even more) - he settled into a listless funk. Although he still played with us, it was obvious he felt lost and alone, probably for the first time since we adopted him. Mimi and Jack never got along, but Mimi was feline company, and Jack isn't and never will be a lone cat. Tori and I had discussed this even while Mimi was battling cancer, and we suspected Jack would suffer, but not as bad as he did. Within two weeks after we lost Mimi, we knew we'd have to get Jack some feline company before the end of the year.
Over the next couple of weeks, Tori couldn't stop looking at potential kittens on shelter web sites. I think it was her way of dealing with her grief. I sometimes joined in, but I had Mimi on my mind too much.
We knew we'd get a kitten. Jack loves to play, and he was forever frustrated with Mimi's refusal to do so. Jack is four years old, still young and energetic enough to deal with a kitten. We also wanted a kitten so that Jack would be the alpha dude, the Man in Charge. We didn't want to get an adult who might have ideas of his own.
On the morning of my birthday, 15 December (mark your calendars!), we took the train to PAWS. the same place where we adopted Jack and Mimi three and a half years before. It was hard; we were both against adopting another calico (out of love for Mimi, and because we didn't want another series of cat battles on our hands), and yet the shelter boasted several your calicos (including two calico kittens, who were heartbreakingly cute.)
While hanging out with the kittens (I recommend doing this at least twice a week for optimum mental health benefits), one little tuxedo kitten kept Tori distracted. He was up for playing with her, and he was well-versed in emotional manipulation, charming my wife to no end. I picked the little bugger up myself; first he started gnawing on my cell phone (while attempting to take a photo of him), then, as I stared him right in the eyes, he playfully bit my nose. Sold. (Jack also introduced himself to me years back by biting me. Little shits.)
So now Felix (named by PAWS; Tori refused to consider another name, believing it fit our tuxedo perfectly) is here. He's snoozing on the computer desk next to me. And he just belted out two monstrous kitten yawns, which means he's ready to get up and wreak havoc on the household. I'll write more about him at a later time, but I need to get to bed before Felix decides it's playtime.
Damn. Too late.