the pitter-patter of medium-sized paws

About a month ago, I finally took the plunge and headed up to a local shelter, after months of waiting for the right moment and then weeks of dithering over the cats on their website. I dragged therienne along with me for moral support and drivingness (she'd been there a few months ago to get her new kitten), as well as the loan of one of her sleepypods.

She heroically stuck it out with me for about four hours as I wandered from room to room in an ever-deepening spiral of indecision, despite having pretty quickly narrowed my choices down to four sets of under-2-year-old pairs (I wanted a bonded pair to keep each other company).

But in the end, I went for a pair of 8(ish)-month-old brothers. <3 They'd caught my eye when they showed up on the website a few days earlier, and they were just as cute and appealing in person.

The adoption went relatively smoothly; they were swamped so I had to wait a while, then I got an adoption specialist who told me all the things I was supposed to do (almost none of which I intend to do), down to what brand and flavor of food to buy, and how to clean the litter. *eyeroll* But I nodded earnestly along, tried to clarify the slightly confusing medical records (which took a full month to sort out), and signed where she told me, and then a volunteer brought the boys out.

They were totally silent on the way home except for one forlorn meep from one of them about halfway home, and then were still totally silent at home. therienne and I figured that no one had talked to them when they were small. :( Poor boys. But they were happy to eat a meal, and explore my bedroom, and by that night were already escaping into the rest of the apartment any chance they got. By the next morning, I gave up; ~12 hours' confinement in one room to adapt to being out of a cage/in a new place was going to have to be enough.

I'm terrible at naming cats; my default is LOTR names, but none of the ones available to me really quite work (or I figure the vet staff would never be able to figure them out/spell them). It generally takes me weeks, and this time is no exception. There are still some alternatives that I may fall back on if these turn out not to stick*, but for now...

( Meet Darien, the lanky, flirty, ladies' man: )

( Meet Hobbes, the solid, affectionate, intrepid explorer: )

( Together, They Fight <s>Crime</s> Red Dots! )

♥ ♥ ♥

Hobbes has found his voice, at least a little; he'll let out little cries now and then. Darien is almost entirely silent, although now he'll let himself grunt when he jumps off of something and lands hard. I know he has a voice, though, because he started wailing in the vet's office when they put drops in his ears in case of mites. (Also, for a skinny, wiry, underfed cat, my god he is strong.) (Ahaha I wrote that before I took them back to the vet for followup shots; he outweighs his brother by half a pound now, having gained about 14 ounces while Hobbesie gained... 2. I think he no longer counts as underfed.)

( We had a bit of a health scare the first week... )

But the extended incubation period is finally over, with both boys still active and hungry and therefore safe. \o/ So now it's also safe to post publicly about them.

So far, it's all working out pretty damn well.

♥

* Okay, so maybe Legolas and Gimli are still in the running, a bit; as are Vinnie and Sonny, and Benny and Ray. But all of those have issues; Hobbes is really too cuddly to be a Gimli; Darien is waaaay too sweet to be Sonny; and I would be forever explaining to people in fandom that no, it's for Ray Vecchio, which would get annoying. And I refuse to call him RayV. So. Darien and Hobbes! (And yeah, I know -- but "Bobby" wasn't working, and "Fawkes" wasn't, either, even though Darien has a foxy face and foxy fur, so Fawkesie would be sort of awesomely punny.) back to the rest of the story