How about some cats
Aug. 7th, 2015 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pebblerockerI've been entirely disproportionately exhausted by working for two days this week and my ability to contribute to NaArMaMo has fallen through the floor. So instead of art, I'm doing a cat post. Here's a proper introduction to Monty, with pictures!
Before Monty joined us my partner and I had been catless for a while. I hadn't wanted another cat too soon after we lost our beloved Cilla; it was still hurting and I didn't want to replace her. After a while, my partner suggested taking in foster kittens as we used to, and we did that for a while - taking home some tiny kitties, growing them bigger and making sure they knew how to like snuggles, then sending them back for adoption. Earlier on I'd had some real struggles letting the foster kittens go when it was time for them to find new homes, but this time around I was still missing Cilla and I didn't have much trouble stopping myself falling for any.
But my partner wanted a cat of our own around the house again, and he really liked one of the little grey kitties in one litter. He was a fluffy grey kitten, of a litter with a fluffy black girl, a short-haired grey, and a second fluffy grey who was practically indistinguishable from his brother. They were both happy, playful little cats, but we noticed one of them was always more interested in being around people and cuddling than the other. We eventually figured out that the friendlier one had a tiny crooked bone in the tip of his tail, and that was the only way to tell whether you'd picked up a kitty who might want a snuggle or one who was more likely to wriggle away and climb on things. My partner started to talk about keeping that snuggly friendly boy for ourselves when we sent the others back. I still didn't feel the urge to have a cat of our own, but I let him talk me into keeping little Monty.
Well, Monty didn't take all that long to win me over and I stopped holding that piece of my heart back from him. Here are some pictures of the handsome guy:
Mr Monty Stibbons, looking fairly sleek in this photo from early autumn. I love the way the light looks on the short silver fur on his face, and the darker grey of the end of his nose; now that I have a grey cat I'm fully convinced that grey is the very best and most beautiful colour for a cat. He has lovely golden-green eyes which are most often closed while he sleeps for hours on a comfy chair.
This is Monty a few days ago, helping me in the garden while I took some photos of my daffodils. He loves being in the garden with me. This shows his coat in its full midwinter glory, with a handsome ruff and a curly woolly belly! It was windy that day and his coat is blowing in every direction. Monty is very happy to have his furry tum rubbed and will never bite or scratch, only lick your hand.
He wasn't a very happy cat at the old house, in a street overpopulated with cats with conflicting territories. He loves the new place, where there's plenty of room to roam around; he goes for long walks every day and has some favourite napping spots under the pine trees. There's an orange tomcat up the road somewhere and Monty gets into battles with him and, despite strictly speaking lacking the balls, Monty seems to win most of the time. He has taken on some of the duties of a tomcat, patrolling his property and marking the boundaries, sending off intruders - but when he's home from "work" he's a perfectly placid, friendly housecat. He's sweet and lovely and I really am glad he lives with us.
Before Monty joined us my partner and I had been catless for a while. I hadn't wanted another cat too soon after we lost our beloved Cilla; it was still hurting and I didn't want to replace her. After a while, my partner suggested taking in foster kittens as we used to, and we did that for a while - taking home some tiny kitties, growing them bigger and making sure they knew how to like snuggles, then sending them back for adoption. Earlier on I'd had some real struggles letting the foster kittens go when it was time for them to find new homes, but this time around I was still missing Cilla and I didn't have much trouble stopping myself falling for any.
But my partner wanted a cat of our own around the house again, and he really liked one of the little grey kitties in one litter. He was a fluffy grey kitten, of a litter with a fluffy black girl, a short-haired grey, and a second fluffy grey who was practically indistinguishable from his brother. They were both happy, playful little cats, but we noticed one of them was always more interested in being around people and cuddling than the other. We eventually figured out that the friendlier one had a tiny crooked bone in the tip of his tail, and that was the only way to tell whether you'd picked up a kitty who might want a snuggle or one who was more likely to wriggle away and climb on things. My partner started to talk about keeping that snuggly friendly boy for ourselves when we sent the others back. I still didn't feel the urge to have a cat of our own, but I let him talk me into keeping little Monty.
Well, Monty didn't take all that long to win me over and I stopped holding that piece of my heart back from him. Here are some pictures of the handsome guy:
Mr Monty Stibbons, looking fairly sleek in this photo from early autumn. I love the way the light looks on the short silver fur on his face, and the darker grey of the end of his nose; now that I have a grey cat I'm fully convinced that grey is the very best and most beautiful colour for a cat. He has lovely golden-green eyes which are most often closed while he sleeps for hours on a comfy chair.
This is Monty a few days ago, helping me in the garden while I took some photos of my daffodils. He loves being in the garden with me. This shows his coat in its full midwinter glory, with a handsome ruff and a curly woolly belly! It was windy that day and his coat is blowing in every direction. Monty is very happy to have his furry tum rubbed and will never bite or scratch, only lick your hand.
He wasn't a very happy cat at the old house, in a street overpopulated with cats with conflicting territories. He loves the new place, where there's plenty of room to roam around; he goes for long walks every day and has some favourite napping spots under the pine trees. There's an orange tomcat up the road somewhere and Monty gets into battles with him and, despite strictly speaking lacking the balls, Monty seems to win most of the time. He has taken on some of the duties of a tomcat, patrolling his property and marking the boundaries, sending off intruders - but when he's home from "work" he's a perfectly placid, friendly housecat. He's sweet and lovely and I really am glad he lives with us.
no subject
Date: 2015-08-07 12:04 pm (UTC)