SO Asterix, whose health is restored - he's still old and deaf but he's gaining weight and being annoying, which is always a healthy sign in a cat - is 17, and Mena is a sprightly nine and plays Secret Agent Kitty and is plainly SO BORED SHE COULD SCREAM. SO we decide to get he r a playmate, ideally a nerdy male kitten named Hockey Puck (Daughter suggested Robin Goodfellow had more style). Daughter is a Better Person than I am and pointed out that older shelter cats need homes too, and were harder to place. We adopt Marten, a delightful goofy maybe a year and bit old. He likes to play Ninja Kill Kitty, and he and Asterix have reached a good place, where they rarely come to grips and although Marten would dearly love to play with Asty's tail, he usually doesn't.
Mena still hisses at Marten when she sees him, and the cold snap has her playing Secret Agent Kitty in my bedroom.
Marten is SO BORED HE COULD SCREAM. He's living with codgers! Codgers! Cats to whom a hanging fringe of blanket is nothing, instead of a place to hide and leap on unsuspecting motes of dust.
And I still wanted a kitten to burn off some of my neoteny needs.
So I brought a runty little orange guy of 12 weeks home and gave him the Daughter's room as a sanctuary and he went under the bed and became invisible. He and his 3 month old litter mates and their pregnant mom ended up in the Penacook SPCA night before last, by way of one of their admin's apartment and baths with her extra silky conditioner shampoo. I think the whole family were in shock and exhaustion; although warranted healthy, they were agreeable but boneless. This morning, I have heard and seen New Guy stealthing around the room, but he is lying catto under the bed, hoping I will tell him where I keep the booze and kibble and go away. I think he needs some time to get calmer before he meets Marten.
There are not quite cats in every room in the house. I don't know what to name him ( "Hobbes" has been suggested, after a fine cartoon tiger); if he is to be Marten's sidekick then PintSize would fit, but what an awful name for a serious person, as I imagine New Guy will be in a few years. Or flat, rubber, and cylindrical.
The sweater is done. I washed it so the place I had to pick up a dropped stitch could morph into relaxation, and laid it on the floor of the fiercely cold/hot glassed-in porch to dry. Yesterday morning it was frozen absolutely stiff, which was funny. I hope to mail it off this weekend. Meanwhile, the easiest lace I have ever done - so easy I didn't need to start more than once - I have finished a Road to China wrist-mitt for my mom and started the next one. Very satisfying. Picture of same will follw, probably sooner than a picture of Orange Zorro.