The New Boy is home
Yesterday J-Bear and I went to collect the New Boy from Bordertown (celsa very generously drove half way from Ballarat with him.) I've lived with a cat in the house more often than I have not for my entire life, but the last time I had a kitten, I realised this morning, was Blossom when I was 10. 27 years since I last had to train a kitten not to get onto tables, not to climb the glass shelves, not to go into the gap between the wall and the very heavy piece of furniture that you can just squeeze into but can't get out of by yourself...
Since I started typing this, he's gone to his litter tray, gotten distracted from his business there by the way the litter moves and spent a minute playing with the litter, scaled the back of the couch and made the first leap to the shelves the video tapes are on, talked to J-Bear, eaten some more mushy-food breakfast, sat in his kibble (he hasn't seemed to have worked out it's food yet), and is now beating up a vicious scrap of paper that looked at him wrong. And now has gone to explore the hall for the first time (I've already triple checked the doors are all closed and am resisting the need to check again.)
I can't get over how small he is. He was born on the first of May (now there's an omen for you. The lad is getting the snip as soon as he is safely old enough!) so he is already 3 months old (the right time for kittens to leave their mothers, in my opinion) but he seems so small. He's just left the fat little kitten stage, and is in his first gangly growth spurt, so he seems long and skinny and tiny all at the same time. He'll grow lots, I know, but compared to big, boofy, heavy Onslow, New Boy is just a light-weight bit of fluff.
Having said that - he's a smoochy cat! At the moment it's more sitting on laps, boob-shelves and shoulders (he likes shoulders a lot) and kneading, but the head pushing against fingers that could be better used for skritching and the odd random head-wedge-snuggle has been happening too, which I am very glad about. He's a brave little thing; he encountered the dogs earlier than expected, and from his hiding place behind a box on a low shelf in the library told them to bugger off in no uncertain terms (the dogs are in disgrace for not obeying when told to go outside, and Digby is miserable that I shut them in the laundry all night. We've made up, but last night's dinner wasn't eaten, always a sign that he is unhappy. This morning's cuddle with him was followed by a hefty breakfast by Mr D. Tudor.)
Anyway, NB spent the next two hours or so sitting under a table in the corner of the living room before deciding we weren't hiding any other monsters around our persons. He came out to play, occasionally darting back to a hidey-hole, then decided that we were fun people to play with. He'd slept on my lap the whole way home, which was good, except that it meant that at night when I was ready to sleep (I slept on the couch in the living room; we're introducing him to the whole house slowly one room at a time) he was wide awake and ready to play.
Still haven't decided on a name for him. I toyed with Hector, but given how I cursed myself with Digby Tudor (Chewder), and he's a vocal little boy, I decided I might as well just name the cat Ceaseless Nagg. I want something to go with his bold, adventurous outlook and personality, and given how much he likes perching on shoulders, have decided on Captain 'Something' (after Captain Flint, the parrot in 'Treasure Island'.)
Well, time to go introduce Captain New Boy to the big world (in a harness on a lead.) Will keep you posted and take some photos later.
Since I started typing this, he's gone to his litter tray, gotten distracted from his business there by the way the litter moves and spent a minute playing with the litter, scaled the back of the couch and made the first leap to the shelves the video tapes are on, talked to J-Bear, eaten some more mushy-food breakfast, sat in his kibble (he hasn't seemed to have worked out it's food yet), and is now beating up a vicious scrap of paper that looked at him wrong. And now has gone to explore the hall for the first time (I've already triple checked the doors are all closed and am resisting the need to check again.)
I can't get over how small he is. He was born on the first of May (now there's an omen for you. The lad is getting the snip as soon as he is safely old enough!) so he is already 3 months old (the right time for kittens to leave their mothers, in my opinion) but he seems so small. He's just left the fat little kitten stage, and is in his first gangly growth spurt, so he seems long and skinny and tiny all at the same time. He'll grow lots, I know, but compared to big, boofy, heavy Onslow, New Boy is just a light-weight bit of fluff.
Having said that - he's a smoochy cat! At the moment it's more sitting on laps, boob-shelves and shoulders (he likes shoulders a lot) and kneading, but the head pushing against fingers that could be better used for skritching and the odd random head-wedge-snuggle has been happening too, which I am very glad about. He's a brave little thing; he encountered the dogs earlier than expected, and from his hiding place behind a box on a low shelf in the library told them to bugger off in no uncertain terms (the dogs are in disgrace for not obeying when told to go outside, and Digby is miserable that I shut them in the laundry all night. We've made up, but last night's dinner wasn't eaten, always a sign that he is unhappy. This morning's cuddle with him was followed by a hefty breakfast by Mr D. Tudor.)
Anyway, NB spent the next two hours or so sitting under a table in the corner of the living room before deciding we weren't hiding any other monsters around our persons. He came out to play, occasionally darting back to a hidey-hole, then decided that we were fun people to play with. He'd slept on my lap the whole way home, which was good, except that it meant that at night when I was ready to sleep (I slept on the couch in the living room; we're introducing him to the whole house slowly one room at a time) he was wide awake and ready to play.
Still haven't decided on a name for him. I toyed with Hector, but given how I cursed myself with Digby Tudor (Chewder), and he's a vocal little boy, I decided I might as well just name the cat Ceaseless Nagg. I want something to go with his bold, adventurous outlook and personality, and given how much he likes perching on shoulders, have decided on Captain 'Something' (after Captain Flint, the parrot in 'Treasure Island'.)
Well, time to go introduce Captain New Boy to the big world (in a harness on a lead.) Will keep you posted and take some photos later.