Queer kitty

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. 

Tiger style. 

Pouncin'.

Oh hai.

Just curling up for a cat nap. Don't tickle me, yeah? 

Reading the charity inserts from Saturday's Guardian. Checkin' out the puppies.

 Camouflage kitteh.

Mighty paw.

Lounging.

ZZZzzzz

Enter Magnus

My pa has adopted a kitten, Magnus. It's a big name for such a tiny fur ball (he's just 7 weeks old), and one I have to resist typing in capitals. I think he'll grow in to it. I stopped off to meet him at my dad's house on the way to the St. Vincent show at Southbank last night. He's the first feline we've welcomed into the family since our beloved Eric passed away, 2 years ago this September. Raise yr paws for the new RA kitteh!