Introducing...Fernando!

A few months ago, my cat Elvis passed away. I seriously thought my heart had broken forever--I'd raised Elvis since he was a little bitty kitten, and boy, did I love that cat.

Elvis was the sweetest cat when he wanted to be (but God forbid you catch him when he didn't want to be!). Yes, he had a bad attitude; he was definitely king of the castle, the alpha cat. But he was also a big ol' loving cat. He loved being scratched under his collar, for a little while, but you never knew when, exactly, that while was up until he suddenly turned on you, hissing, with fangs bared. I became adept at reading his signals, and could usually avoid it, but we all got bit by Elvis at least once. 

Elvis is the all black cat; he just looks like he will tear you up, but he only really did that occasionally.

He was a good cat--he never ripped up the house, like Frankie, or messed it up. He was low-key, and loved to hang out, usually napping right on me while I watched TV. Elvis was just an all-around great cat, and I miss him dearly.

So much, in fact, I refused to get another cat after him. I couldn't imagine replacing him; nobody could replace The King, and I wouldn't even try.

However, the boys in my house convinced me otherwise. Mark the Cat Whisperer has always wanted a kitten, and man, did he turn up the sales pitch. But he wasn't the one who finally changed my mind. My cat, Frankie, did. He was lonely. Whenever we came home, he told us off, meowing loudly and angrily at us.

And so, I caved. I'd get a companion for Frankie, and fulfill one of Mark's dreams. I'd make everyone happy, right?

What I didn't anticipate were my own feelings. I figured I'd like the new kitten, because really, who doesn't like kittens? What I didn't anticipate was how much I'd like this little kitten.

Here he is. Go ahead. Oooh. Ahhhh. You know you want to. 

His name is Fernando. Mark named him after a seagull at Boy Scout camp, who'd steal all the boys' fishing bait. 

We got him from a friend, and picking out just one kitten was almost impossible for Mark. (In fact, the little snit tried smuggling two kittens home in the carrier!) Fernando was the first cat Mark picked, but then a little silver cat caught his eye. Mark wavered between the two, right up until Fernando crawled into his lap and fell asleep. Turns out it wasn't Mark's choice after all--it was Fernando's, and he chose Mark.

He was the littlest, tiniest guy. Seriously, he was smaller than a book! 

And fluffier than anything you've ever seen. Which, while adorable, turns out to be something I'm highly allergic to. But I don't even care! I still pet and kiss him non-stop, which probably doesn't help. But I did rush out and spend hundreds of dollars on HEPA air purifiers, which I hope will.

Fernando's a wild cat, obsessed with feet and shoes, which means he stalks us and attacks our toes whenever we're sitting on the couch. He also chases us down as we walk through the house, clutching our legs with all his might.

"Hurry up and set the table," my mom told Mark this morning.

"I can't," Mark sighed. "There's a kitten biting my foot!" Sure enough, Fernando was locked on to Mark's leg.

It's been hilarious to watch him grow. Every day, he learns something new. Last week, it was running. He'd pranced and bounced sideways everywhere, but one day, he started running! He was so proud he spent the whole day running, then napping, then running again, then tripping us while running throughout the house.

The kitten looooooooves Mark. He sleeps on Mark's bed, and runs off to Mark's room when he gets tired of being held. ("He's going home," my mom says, when Fernando runs off to Mark's room.) He's so cute, Mark and I actually fight to hold him, and my mom yells at us to leave the little kitten alone. 

Even the kids next door love him--our little neighbor Sage, who's 6, comes over every day to play with him. I thought she was looking for Mark and her brother the first day, so I told her they were playing at her house.

"I know," she said. "I came to play with the kitten." She's been back every night since, slinging him over her shoulder, or cradling him like a baby.

The only one who doesn't think Fernando is the cutest thing ever is Frankie. He's slowly accepting the kitten, which I'm not surprised about, because Frankie is always jealous when anyone else gets attention. He always refused to come when called, unless we called out for Elvis. The minute he heard Elvis' name, he'd come running over, meowing and acting all cute, as if to say, "Hey, who needs Elvis, look how cute I am!"

At first, Frankie hissed at Fernando, which scared the crud out of the kitten. But that little cat won't be dissuaded. I'm not sure if he's super brave or just has a death wish, but he actually stalks Frankie now, running by and swatting him on the tail. Frankie just gives him the stink-eye. Everybody but Fernando knows Frankie could send him flying across the room with one swat. But Frankie tolerates him, which I think is about the best we can ask for right now.

And so, our household has been conquered and is now being held captive by a little ball of fuzz that weighs less than half a pound. The fuzzball is, however, intent on changing that. I'm not sure if he's a little piglet, or if he's just trying to grow quickly so he's no longer a potential Frankie snack. But that baby cat eats nonstop, and he's 90% belly because of it. Seriously. He looks like a tiny baby cat who swallowed a tennis ball. 

But boy, do we love that big-bellied, mewling, hyperactive, little baby!