The second of Lea’s pair of 1992 cats died Thanksgiving weekend, so we’ve been without an inside quadruped since then. We’ve been actively talking about another cat for a couple of weeks. Lea’s been steadily emailing me pictures of Oliver, a cat who’s been hanging at an animal shelter in Athens, for almost that long.
Well, she sent me one today, and I called her and asked her to go get him after she picked Nathan up from preschool. So he’s here, and he’s cool. (He’s lounging on Nathan’s bed above.) He wasn’t advertised as a Russian Blue, but he may well be (and if he isn’t, he’s got all that I always thought was cool about one anyway). He’s two years old and has been declawed. Lea and I had already decided against declawing our next cat, though we’ll certainly take one that’s already that way.
He’s affectionate, seems to be good with the boys, and is roaming nicely. (Seems appreciative of the elbow room.) And man, he’s a good-lookin’ dude, if I do say so. Welcome, big guy!