At long last, here's something directly related to my personal life that I don't mind making public to anyone and no one on the Wilds of the Web.
As the picture above shows, there's another little cat on my floor. On my foot, specifically. He likes to hang out there. My wife brought him home, of course, but where he came from before that isn't entirely clear, and I didn't press for details. The vague idea I get is that someone somewhere had a pregnant queen cat and, as usual, didn't know what to do with all the babies. Most of them ran away before they could be caught. We ended up with the friendliest, or least terrified, or slowest moving--take your pick--out of the litter.
Why people don't spay or neuter their pets is simply beyond me. Do they really believe the female animal will not get pregnant? Do they think abstinence works in the animal kingdom? It barely works for humans. But I digress.
The little boy is here, and he's just three weeks old. Barely off the breast. We feed him formula in a baby bottle sometimes, but we're trying to get him to eat mushy stuff made from ground up dry kitten chow and some sort of meaty mash that comes in a can. The vetrinarian says he's got a stomach bug at the moment, so we have to actively put him on the litter box now and then to minimise the number of messes on the floor.
They call him Soramame. He's just about the same colour as the floor, so we can't have him romaing about all the time, or else he'll come to an untimely end.
Our young-but-grown-up queen, Mikan, reacted with the first controlled hiss of her life, and spent most of the first day trying to smack the little guy in the face. She still hits him on the head two days later, but the hits are getting lighter, and sometimes she hesitates before attacking. More often, he runs toward her and she stands on her hind legs trying to back away. She hadn't seen anything like him before, and she's probably still not entirely sure what he is. He looks like a ball of fur, but he moves of his own volition. And that's just weird.
Now, I've been assured we're not taking on any more. I'm told we were always supposed to have a playmate for the one we have. She'll behave better and never be bored again. Two is the limit, I'm told.