If you follow me on Twitter, you probably caught that we've recently added to the family with two new kittens. We've known for a while that we wanted to and finally got out to some shelters over the past couple of weeks.
My mom and sister had already decided one thing they wanted: A black cat that we'd name Loki. (Remember my sister's Tom Hiddleston fixation? Yeah.) You'd think deciding something like that in advance would doom us to a really bad fit, but that wasn't the case.
We went to the shelter closest to us, and there she was. A 3-4 month old black kitten, climbing the gate of her cage and screaming at us (literally) to take her home. Having had her for a couple of weeks now, she can definitely be a little imp sometimes (so the name fits), but she's also a cuddly sweetheart. In fact, as I type this, she's perched half on my shoulder, half on the pillows I'm sitting against with her purr right in my ear.
Next up, we drove to another shelter much farther. There we found a younger brown tabby that we've named Pika. While Loki has lungs enough to bring the vet's office cat running with worry (yes, that actually happened), Pika has the tiniest meow ever, when it comes out at all. Half the time, her mouth moves but no sound comes out.
Now for the gratuitous part. An entirely-too-long-for-what-it-is bit of video of the two new buddies. This is pretty much what happens to me every day while everyone else is at work and I'm trying to write. Enjoy!
(If you're wondering about the colored claws, they're plastic caps to keep them from shredding myself and everything else on the planet. And yes, Pika totally starts it, apparently forgetting that Loki's bigger.)