Actually, I even got to hold him today, although at the time of writing he has apparently evaporated. One assumes he is still in the Daughter's room. Although Hobbes is a good name, he is tending toward Toby (short for Tobermory, but we hope he will be nicer than the cat in that story). Hobbes is for an older person; Toby is small.
Today he made no sounds like a short-wave radio, and seemed cautiously cheerful. I waited till noon to give him breakfast and included some chicken liver;he liked it. He ate kibble out of Doug's hand (and a chunk of Doug's thumb, but Doug says no malice was intended). Marten and he sort of played; both of them seemed eager to get to know the other, as when Marten grabbed Toby from under the bedskirt. Toby looked surprised but not upset; he rolled away. Marten definitely seemed the younger of the two ("Come on! Wanna play? Come on!") Toby looked like "So, this is a cat _not_ from my family, wow, he's BIG." No hissing. No yowling.
This may just work out.
Later Cindy B and her friend Susan came and we all did handwork, except for the cats. Susan edged a woven blanket in crochet; Doug worked on his hat. Cindy is making shooter's mitts, except they are for horse-drivers; they have breed-specific horses in intarsia on the back, and the tip of the thumb flips off like the mitten-top. I made three wristlets today, completing two pairs. They are 30 stitches around and about 6 inches long, so this is not cyclopean labor. I also wasted about two hours having every possible setback trying to make a tag for the sweater using t-shirt transfer paper. After doing everything very carefully, Cindy, who has recent transfer practice, decided my paper was old or something; we could not get the transfer-print to separate from the backing-paper after it was ironed on.
Perhaps pictures tomorrow.