So it turns out we have no idea what sex Magnus is. The folk we adopted him from didn't bother to check before they brought him round, and our own lackadaisical examinations have failed to really clarify anything other than a healthy abundance of fur. We should find out when we get the vaccinations sorted. My pa says he'll keep calling her Magnus, even if she turns out to be a grrrl kitteh, which I totally approve of. We're bouncing quite sweetly between pronouns when I call to check up: "How's he doing?" "Is she eating well?" etc.
Just curling up for a cat nap. Don't tickle me, yeah?
Reading the charity inserts from Saturday's Guardian. Checkin' out the puppies.