This one is – brace yourself – Kitty Katniss.*

Well, actually Katniss, but she doesn’t answer to that yet. Of course, she doesn’t answer to her old name, or to Kitty, or anything else. She tolerates us because we feed her. But she does respond to string, or straps, or anything like that. I think I will be knitting at school for a while.

Between being beautiful and being the softest cat ever, she gets away with being snotty. And that chasing the laser pointer dot is pretty fun too.

By the way, she is a shelter cat which apparently makes us freaking heroes, which is a dumb thing to say because she comes complete – she’s fixed, she’s had all her shots, she’s past the curtain-climbing age. Kittens are a load of fun, but we weren’t in that kind of position. Plus, if we’d gone for a kitten, there were three at the shelter who just totally belonged together, and we can only have one cat.

* nota bene. I did not name either of these cats. The only cat I named was Maggie. He turned out to be a boy, so then he was Max. I liked those names.

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