(no subject)
Here's Ringo on my new bed. The meek and loving little kitty that showed up at Bob's house was replaced sometime in the night by a little demon cat after I moved to my new house. Or maybe he was just so malnourished when we found him that he didn't have the strength to be the little terror that he really is. But he's MY little terror, and I love him. Most of the time. He sleeps all day while I'm at work, and then he's bouncing off the walls by the time I get home. So what can I do about this psycho little bundle of energy? Get more cats. Today, I signed the adoption papers for two little kitties from the animal shelter. Micky is a tiny black kitten, and Moonie is a Siamese. Yes, they're all named after drummers. Bass players just don't have good cat names. I couldn't very well call them Paul, Peter and John, could I? Anyway, Micky is quite traumatized from his two weeks at the shelter, so it's hard to tell what he's really like. He's quite calm and loving, but so was Ringo when he first showed up. Moonie already promises to be quite a handful. My right hand is covered with tiny scratches from the brief time I spent playing with him at the shelter. I wanted a cat who wouldn't be a threat to Ringo, but could hold his own. I turned down an adorable, quiet, loving chocolate point Siamese in favor of Moonie. I hope it works out. I'll find out tomorrow when I bring them home from the shelter. Boy, is Ringo in for a surprise.