So, for a time, we have been sans cat around here. Stripe, who was a few months short of twenty-one, shuffled off a couple years ago, and while we kept waiting for his replacement to show up, as another one always seemed to do whenever we lost a cat, nobody ever mewed at the door.
So we kind of allowed out loud to the cosmos that we were interested.
Yesterday a friend called us. She had a friend who found a stray sitting in the heat somewhere and crying, so she gathered it up and ...
Meet Cat Ballou, whose sex we haven't been able to determine yet, s/he being at that age where such is iffy. We are guessing s/he's about twelve weeks or so old, plus or minus, and the name is ambiguous enough to cover either an innie or outie when we find out.
Kitty is friendly, though the dogs haven't stopped barking through the baby gate yet. They are calming down, and we figured they'll realize Ballou is going to be part of the pack in a few days. Both of them had Stripe around for a while, so they'll adjust.
We had just gotten back from a day at the nice, cool coast -- sixty-three and foggy -- when the call came, and we weren't expecting to deal with kitten-ry. But we went and met Ballou, made a stop for some food and a litter box, and here we are.
We are more dog-folk than cat, but there's something about kitten energy, which we haven't had for a long time, that is delightful.
Never, as I am wont to say, a dull moment.