Cat egory

In two weeks, Casey the kitten (full name Casey Underfoot) has managed to worm his way into everyone’s affections, to the extent that even my usually taciturn father has been sighted jiggling around singing “Look, Caseykins, nice juicy slippers!” (The cat is obsessed with his house slippers and stalks them incessantly. The rest of us theorize that they must need a wash.) Meanwhile, my mother, whose nine cats of her youth never knew vets, worming tablets, or flea powder, has borrowed three cat books out of the library and we’re taking him to the vet for his first checkup this week.

At dinner today, Yuping informed me that she wanted more kitten photos, and I’m only too happy to oblige.

Not quite heavy enough to get snipped…yet

I call this one Reclining Nude

Snug, bug, rug

To anyone getting sickened by all this cuteness, I can’t promise you less kitten pictures, but I will at least point you in the direction of Clay Kitten Shooting, where my current high score is 76. Beat that, mofos.

I know this second lapse into cat pictures will substantially harm whatever chances I ever have of cutting-edge indie cool cyberbabeness, but really, cutting-edge indie cool cyberbabeness doesn’t seem very important at all when you have a warm kitten fast asleep on your lap.

After 10 years on the Internet I am finally the stereotypical Web nerd whose site contains pictures of my cat. Oh happy day. :)

We’d been hearing a kitten crying from the empty house next door for the past two days, so today my mum and I went over to investigate. She came running towards us, mewing loudly, the moment we appeared.

We carried her home and put her in the back bathroom with a box, an old T-shirt and some shredded newspaper for kitty litter. She wouldn’t keep quiet while my mum was trying to tutor a student, but promptly fell asleep purring once put on my mum’s lap and stroked. She’s friendly, not in the least bit scared of us, and spent most of the evening stalking my feet.

I don’t know if we can keep her or not, because I used to have all sorts of allergies when I was a child, and we don’t know if I’ve grown out of them yet. We’re also rather fond of our furniture and would rather not have it scratched to bits by a feisty cat.

But I kind of love her already.