So This Is Christmas 2012

Their  traditions: homemade gingerbread and roasted chestnuts.

 

My traditions: Christmas tree decorations composed entirely of angels

Our traditions: peace on earth and good will toward man. Sleep in heavenly peace.

The New Baby

I didn't take the loss of Simon Says lightly. It was only a matter of days before I began hunting for his replacement. I won't lie: I knew it was a replacement I was looking for. My maximum allowable cat limit was three, and being back down to two was odd. 

I was introduced to "Petal" on my first trip to the SPCA mid-December. She was a stunningly soft long-haired calico, about 6 months old, and... already spoken for. I asked what that meant, and essentially a family had claimed my ideal third cat already but gone home to get supplies and prepare the house. They had 24 hours to come back for her. What were the chances of them not coming back? I asked. "I've never had someone not come back for a kitten," the girl behind the counter told me.

There was a tiny black furball and a year-old white beauty with calico spots that I found myself debating between. I did have the thought of taking them both, but four cats was a little too much to care for properly, even for me. So I decided in the end to sleep on it and went home empty handed.

Imagine my delight when I returned the next day, and that girl behind the counter almost came over the desk after me as I came through the door. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you came back! They didn't come to claim her!"
I was stunned. I recall having to apologize for using the f-bomb in my moment of sheer glee. "She's mine. I want her," I said, and then I dashed into the cat room to Petal's cage and took her incredible softness into my arms. "You're coming home with me," I informed her. "But that name has got to go."

Meet Chloe, aka BabyCat, or BellaBean. 

 

She has a swiffer tail, feels like silk to the touch, and is a hell of a charmer, to both the other cats and humans alike. She loves to tease Fat Monty and she and Pickles chase each other playfully from one end of the house to the other. Then, she sleeps. Most often with me, on my legs or on my keyboard, but generally any lap will do. 

On the occasion when she's allowed outside, she goes no farther than the next door neighbour's, and the one night she was accidentally left outside, she sat by the basement door and meowed until she was found.

She replaced Simon physically, but definitely  has carved her own little niche in the family.

That Fat Cat

Just a little camera shy, Montgomery takes more offense at having to open his eyes than he does to sleeping in a doggy bed.