He's An Adult Now! I Feel Like I Ought To Take Him Out Drinking.

Happy first birthday to Vir-the-no-longer-a-kitten! Actually, his birthday is either today or yesterday, depending on exactly how long he was out there lying in my driveway before I found him a year ago at half past midnight, but I think we can call it today.

I find it almost impossible to believe that that tiny, two-ounce scrap of nearly-unidentifiable lifeform I once held in the palm of my hand with room to spare has grown into a strapping and definitively feline cat, but he has. For those of you who know my cats, I think he's actually a little bit bigger than Nova. Or probably quite a lot bigger than Nova, if you take off Nova's hair, which makes up a good percentage of Nova's bulk. He's about thirteen pounds, I think, and pretty solidly built.

And, while he's frequently an ornery pain in the ass, as pretty much all cats are, he's also the single cuddliest, purringest cat I've ever met, so at least I got a return on my investment for all those nights of broken sleep when I was nursing him. (To be honest, I'm still kind of surprised that he lived. But I'll happily take the credit.)

What I find really interesting about Vir isn't that he's so friendly and affectionate to people. You'd probably expect that, given that he was raised by a human and handled a lot from the time he was born. It's that he's so completely catlike, despite the fact that he never even saw another cat until he was six weeks old, when he was finally allowed out of bathroom quarantine to interact with my other cats. By that time, he was already grooming himself, using a litterbox, stalking and pouncing, and basically doing all the things cats normally do. It's an amazing testament to how much pre-programmed behavior animals usually come with.

Anyway, happy birthday, Vir! I'm afraid you're not getting any presents, though. I think you've already been spoiled enough for one year.