We Would Like To Introduce Ferris

My, hasn't this been an interesting summer?

Yes. We have a kitty. More accurately, Max is the proud human to a kitty he named Ferris.

Last week at the feed store, where I was innocently minding my own business probably had no business being, we were visiting the bunnies, the goats, the chicks, the parrot, the donkey, turkeys, guinea pigs, and buying lay mash, and we happened to see him.


I was strong. I was rational. I was smitten, but I remained strong. Max was utterly charmed. This lone kitty, the last of his litter, would not stop talking to Max, would not stop looking at him with affectionate, seductive eyes. The skinny kitty purred, paced, and pursued. And Max was overcome with affection and longing. Longing to have his own kitty, to love and shelter, to care for and… yes, I bought the whole campaign. I weakened with every implore, and every promise, and every assurance that he, Max, would be responsible for his kitty.


Ferris is Max's birthday cat. An early present, and a promise kept… while renting, we made a lot of promises about all that could, and would, and might happen in a home of our own.

William was smitten too, and he lit up when he saw that we actually were going to bring home this purring love bundle. Maria, no surprise, is also totally charmed. She is proud to tell anyone that her brother has a cat of his own, and she loves doing anything to help her brother take care of Ferris. Geoff sighed and cooed when came home from work, and met the new resident. And Monday, after coming home from his double adventure, Alex met Ferris and fell in love too.


Max is almost twelve years old. His birthdays always make me feel particularly grateful. He is an amazing boy. Smart. Mature. Sophisticated. Diligent, and responsible. I could not really doubt that if he said he would care for a cat, he would care for a cat. Any help from me has been about teaching, guiding, otherwise Max has been true to his word.


The healthy cats check up at Dr G's was for Benji, Chango, and Ferris. And Ferris got his shots, and a clean bill of health. He weighed less than three pounds, and was estimated to be twelve weeks old.


Benjamin's response? At first Benji was scared of the kitty, and he would hide in corners and behind doors.


Getting his shots, Benji hugged me, and hid his nose in my arm. All in all Benji has mellowed, a lot, since the arrival of Ferris-Let's Play-Purrorama. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Benji is calmer, snoozier, more timid, more low key… is it the new kitty, or the weather? Whatever… this is working out nicely.

Chango does not suffer fools. He's met new kitties before, and as long as they give him first dibs at the food dish, and don't expect him to snuggle, he is fine. Step in to his space, though, and they get a swift warning bop on the head. It's firm, and effective. More cautionary than malicious. It will work out fine.


He looks pretty orange here, but we find him surprisingly pink… to Maria's delight! That first picture, at the top, with the wild eyes and fangs… that is a momentary anti-Ferris expression. I don't think he ever stops purring, and when he is out to play he is boundless with his joy and energy, but not aggressive, not feisty. He has parrot qualities… meaning he likes to perch on shoulders. He is loving, and seems grateful.

I should probably see about getting pet supplies delivered to the house… it might be safer, more economical.