My wife has been looking at kittens for a few weeks now. It is the season and the local Humane Society has pictures posted up on their web site. Then my daughter got in on the act, and the deal was pretty much sealed when she started texting me pictures of a kitten in her lap at Petco up the street. And so we have a new member of our household.
His name is Miles. For the moment. Names are a contentious issue. He came with the name Barry, which my wife was for but my daughter was against. Miles came up after much back and forth. It might stick, or he might end up as Milo. We’ll see.
He is a dozen weeks old, is full of energy, and has a purr like a mini two-stroke engine that he revs up the moment we’re in the room with him. He is all over my wife’s home office.
Now it is just a matter of getting Miles introduced to Rigby, our current cat. Rigby is still young-ish, coming up on four years of age, and has been missing having a playmate around. He knows something new is up and has posted himself outside the office door for long stretches to see what is up.
We did have a test encounter earlier. Rigby was in the office doorway and Miles jumped out, arched his back, hissed, and hopped/bounced in that posture straight at Rigby, who retreated in the face of the aggressive fuzz ball. We’ll have to work on that.