meet einstein

On Tuesday, we went with Mom and Dad to the Iosco County pound (or I guess it is the local ASPCA office. Or both.) Anyway, Mom finally agreed that getting another kitty would be a Good Thing. She’d been leery about it becuase it was so hard for her to lose Holly, a siamese cat she adopted when they moved up to Oscoda in 1993 (when Dad retired from teaching). And it didn’t impede the decision when Twitch caught two mice in the space of a week—a kitty has another job besides running the house.

When we got to the pound and Mom went into the kitten room, this little gray ball of fuzzy made eye contact. Mom’s decision took maybe five seconds. They filled out a form, promised to take the fuzzball to the vet, get her spayed in six months, paid $35 dollars, and outside of picking up a bag of free kitten food from the local feed store, we headed home.

Here is the fuzzball (click to enlarge):

Einstein Fleming, adopted 9/5/06 at six weeks old

It took a couple of days, but Mom named her Einstein. It took maybe 30 minutes for Einstein to establish who’s boss. She’s a bold and curious little thing, not the least bit shy. Already hissed at Ginger, who weighs 85 pounds and just wants the little kitty to play with her. If Einstein meows more than once, Ginger comes running to find out what’s wrong. Twitch is doing his Bagheera number, clearly interested but has to pretend he doesn’t care. Einstein is trying to get Twitch to play with her, but Twitch is, right now, too tragically hip to wrestle with a youngun.

I know it’s a cliché to say this, but Einstein has Mom wrapped around his little toe. Stanley took this picture (and the one above)—click to enlarge it:

Einstein cuddles with Alice

Einstein is fast—she scuttles around at mach 1, like a little bug, and doesn’t hesitate to climb furniture or people. I think she’s going to be a beautiful cat when she grows a little and the full coat comes in. She’s got a full white bib and white boots.

Oh, Mom calls her Einstein because she sleeps in her litter box. At the pound, the litter boxes were almost as large as the cages, so I’m not surprised. She kept Dad up by playing on his face, so was confined to another room at night, but when we leave, she’ll probably have run of the house at night (don’t want any catfights in the middle of the night—doubt it would happen, but why risk it?) Mom wants Einstein to be an indoor cat—that’s probably good because there are coyotes and other carnivores around here now—even a badger that’s been rototilling lawns around here (but that’s another story).


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