Peanut came to us in April 2009, in our fourth litter of foster kittens. I thought he was a very cute kitten, but I could immediately tell that he didn't have a loving personality. Mike, however, took such a liking to him that he wore me down, stressing that Ginny needed a companion and she seemed to like the little cuss. So after all his siblings were adopted at their first fair but he was left behind, I relented and we kept him.
And of course, I was right about his personality. He's a rather grumpy cat, the feline Andy Rooney, and he's definitely not a lap cat. But as he ages, he is mellowing and becoming a bit more companionable (if no less demanding).
He's grown from a scraggly 12-ounce four-week-old to a hefty, handsome thirteen-pounder. He's curiously threatened by our smallest cat who's half his size, and he's deathly afraid of leaf-blowers and the vacuum cleaner. He engages in slow-motion Sumo cat-wrestling bouts with Max, our other male. He likes to eat crunchy carbs like raw macaroni and Cheerios. He has a tail that would make a raccoon envious. He still tries to hump Ginny occasionally; she's learned how to hiss him into his place. But then he'll crawl over and beg her to clean his ears just like when he was a kitten. Oedipal much?