From the so-aptly-named Cute Overload.
Now I have a terrible kitten jones. My five-year-old cat would kill me or eat it, not necessarily in that order. Maybe. Weellll...NO, dammit. Bad timing. Bad idea.
(o but it's so kyooooot)
*sigh* It's gonna be one of those days, isn't it.
5 comments:
I have thought deeply about the New Cat question. I think the problem is this: The instant a new cat enters the house, the existing cats will become clingier than ever before, sitting on or near you at all times, all while Glaring at the new cat. They will also push the new cat around to make sure it knows it's nothing but an abased slave dwelling in the sub-basement of the pecking order. Then, if you try to give the new cat any affection whatsoever, even merely to ease its abased-slave toils, the existing cats will be furious.
So, in my house at least: No New Cats. Ever.
Heh.
He seems to get along with other cats, kittens included, when I leave him at the sitters'--he even has a girlfriend, of sorts--but I dunno if the whole territorial thing would kick in if I brought a new little guy into my place.
Mostly, I think I really just want to wait 'til I get a place that has more than one bathroom, or at least one that's big enough to accomodate a litter box a bit...farther...away from the tub.
cuuuuute!
I too have a kitten jones, but my current cat, well, I don't think it would fly with her. she'd kill it, or me, or all three of us. she's a little posessive.
I recently attempted to drag home a new cat. My grandparents, who live on a farm, have two extremely domesticated tomcats. Malenkii and Golden Boy (we're running out names). They used to get along quite well. Malenkii even raised Golden Boy after the untimely death of the mama cat. (With some help, despite his best efforts, Malenkii was unable to nurse his adopted litter.) But the boys had started fighting, so it was decided that it was worthwhile to see if Malenkii would fit in with my sister's cats. So, I bring Malenkii cat home. Sister's cat number one a 12 year old queen hisses at Malenkii once. Then some form of communication passes between then, and she realizes that he had little to do with his presence in the house and directed all her ire at me. Then, fortunately while I'm holding Malenkii, we meet my sister's "I'm in the prime of my life and very manly" tom cat, who is twice Malenkii's size. He makes a series of low yowling noises, indicating with perfect clarity that if I were to sit Malenkii down on his kitchen floor, there would be nothing left of Malenkii within five seconds.
Malenkii returned to the farm. Last I heard, he and Golden Boy had worked out some sort of truce.
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