On Christmas Eve, while I was drying my last dish after baking and cooking up a storm all day, James walked in with an animal carrier containing a five month old kitten.
"I always feel so bad when I leave the house, Frank just looks at me like, 'hey man, where ya goin'? Let's play!' So I got him - well, and you - a kitten. I just went out to get him a treat for Christmas but then this kitten was there, and she kind of looks like Frank, and she just had the coolest personality, so, I brought her home."
Dramatic pause.
"Wow. Wow! I can't believe it!" I was in disbelief, and thinking about how much more litter I would have to scoop, and yet inexorably drawn to the cuteness radiating out from this small creature. She opened her mouth up wide, as if to yawn, but a squeaky, breathy "mew" came out instead.
Frank was curious at first, but once he realized what had just landed in his living room was he was not at all happy about it. The kitten would charge up to him and he would hiss. No paws were raised and it hasn't come to blows at all that we know of; just hiss after hiss after hiss of dramatic disapproval from our lugubrious feline.
The next morning Frank's hissing seemed to have ceased. We were gone all day for Christmas festivities, and I was worried the whole time about coming home to find a bloodied kitten hiding in some secret part of the house. When we got home she was indeed nowhere to be found, but then appeared ten minutes later, like a ninja, purring unusually loudly and going from one activity to the next to the next to the next with the kind of ADD typical of energetic youngsters. Although Frank seems to gradually become more at peace with the newcomer, they're not holding hands or anything yet. She has cheerfully carried on her campaign to win him over; she is confident and dominant, and has already started to drive the activities of the house. Nap time. Play time. Food time. Pee time. Cuddle with the humans time. Frank follows along with each activity, but can't match the wide-open throttle of the kitten we have named "Roxy," after Elizabeth's Aunt Roxy Montana, and another Roxy I know who's beautiful, confident and daring.
Here is a photo of the soon-to-be happy couple (Frank on the top, Roxy on the bottom):

"I always feel so bad when I leave the house, Frank just looks at me like, 'hey man, where ya goin'? Let's play!' So I got him - well, and you - a kitten. I just went out to get him a treat for Christmas but then this kitten was there, and she kind of looks like Frank, and she just had the coolest personality, so, I brought her home."
Dramatic pause.
"Wow. Wow! I can't believe it!" I was in disbelief, and thinking about how much more litter I would have to scoop, and yet inexorably drawn to the cuteness radiating out from this small creature. She opened her mouth up wide, as if to yawn, but a squeaky, breathy "mew" came out instead.
Frank was curious at first, but once he realized what had just landed in his living room was he was not at all happy about it. The kitten would charge up to him and he would hiss. No paws were raised and it hasn't come to blows at all that we know of; just hiss after hiss after hiss of dramatic disapproval from our lugubrious feline.
The next morning Frank's hissing seemed to have ceased. We were gone all day for Christmas festivities, and I was worried the whole time about coming home to find a bloodied kitten hiding in some secret part of the house. When we got home she was indeed nowhere to be found, but then appeared ten minutes later, like a ninja, purring unusually loudly and going from one activity to the next to the next to the next with the kind of ADD typical of energetic youngsters. Although Frank seems to gradually become more at peace with the newcomer, they're not holding hands or anything yet. She has cheerfully carried on her campaign to win him over; she is confident and dominant, and has already started to drive the activities of the house. Nap time. Play time. Food time. Pee time. Cuddle with the humans time. Frank follows along with each activity, but can't match the wide-open throttle of the kitten we have named "Roxy," after Elizabeth's Aunt Roxy Montana, and another Roxy I know who's beautiful, confident and daring.
Here is a photo of the soon-to-be happy couple (Frank on the top, Roxy on the bottom):

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