juushika

The other thing I did in 2022 (other than read game manuals, and consume good media, and also we bought a house) is that I followed through on the "as soon as I have a house, I'm getting a third cat" threat & got a kitten.

( The lead-up & adoption. )

( The first few weeks. )

Meanwhile, I named the kitten November, called Vivi.

( Here's Vivi's backstory )

So. I wanted a kitten to make the house feel alive, and certainly she did that! In a horrible, frenetic way, at first! I also wanted to be happier, and after those initial weeks, guess what: Vivi is perfect.

Despite the odds, she's just as her bio claimed. She gets along great with the other cats, and has impeccable cat manners despite occasional little-sibling behavior (is this annoying? is this annoying? when I poke your face, is that annoying?). August tolerates her with enthusiasm—August's special way of cohabitating, "I would be lonely without you, but please don't touch me". Toby is absolutely enriched by her—they're not best-friend snuggle-buddies, but they'll co-sleep and play and he bullies her just a little, but not too much.

But her truest joy is people. August is a die-hard lap cat, Toby apparently literally stops eating without cuddles, but Vivi is a monster for companionship. For a long time she only wanted to be held (head over the left shoulder) and would throw a hissyfit if put down; she now has expanded her repertoire to include laps (!) and various forms of co-sleeping. Every morning she wakes me by lying on my shoulder/neck for cuddles. She purrs for hours, hours; nothing about Vivi is an exaggeration: the sweetest, most loving cat I've ever met.

I don't like kittens because they look dumb & because even year-old cats are too much energy for me. But Vivi is a miracle. Her play is enthusiastic but ridiculously low-effort, much of it self-directed. She never went through asshole phases.

Also, she's about 8 months now and still so tiny. 6.5-7 pounds? She makes kittenish meep-meep sounds instead of meowing (she can meow! it's tiny, too. she only does it while playing) and a lot of her other vocalizations are small, like soundless chattering. It's possible her voice could change, and she'll certainly continue to fill out into an adult. But she's my only kitten and feels very much like a perma-kitten; a kitten with all the good and none of the bad parts of a kitten: tiny, very silly, curious and joyful, unbearably sweet, so cute it physically hurts my body.

Devon loves her—the other cats are mine but Vivi feels more like ours, like she wouldn't chose favorites between us (except she would) (it would be me: I feed her).

I've lived in a four-cat household before, I've been effective-caretaker for three cats at once, but something about this combination—three cats, an aesthetically pleasing odd number, all black DMH which I find so, so beautiful; all so different despite this similarity, complete individuals, completely unique ... I'm over the moon; I love her and I love them and the house, which I also love, feels complete in a soul-satisfying way. Three is the perfect number.

Vivi wasn't a secret kitten on purpose. I just haven't wanted to talk to people—the move was a lot of work, aesthetic changes to the house consume a lot of my time ... but mostly it's that, after my sister died, I just didn't want to reach out to anyone. Vivi can't fix that; it's a huge burden for very small shoulders. Nonetheless she is a miracle. The mythologization of cat adoption stories truly happens after the fact: despite that it was a truly horribly time, she was the right cat. She's only been here five months, and already I couldn't imagine life without her.

Anyway, who cares! Kitten pictures, in approximately-chronological order. There would be more, but it turns out I'm in most of my Vivi pictures, as she prefers to be On Person at All Times. Images are labeled for my records, as temporary hosting will doubtless nuke them.



(november 001)


(november 002)

Those were the pics on her adoption listing!

( 11 pics below the cut. )

CW for wildfire talk, COVID talk, dead dad talk I guess.

• The city I'm living in entered green/"get ready to evacuate" status in the first week of the Oregon wildfires (specifically the Lionshead fire), but thankfully never progressed beyond that and de-escalated after ~5 days when the rain came. Air quality was a worse problem for longer, but has since improved thanks in large part to more rain. On one hand, taking photographs of all your valuables, organizing all your important documents into one box, and similar emergency prep work isn't bad to have done; on the other hand, staring into the reality of "these are my physical possessions which, like huge swathes of my state, could be gone forever" is terrifying, and it's just a lot of process on top of the everything else which is also just a lot to process.
  
  
• Example: I had library materials due during the fires which, lol, no. But when I checked the library website they were like "we're extending our already-extended checkouts because the state is literally on fire and we're closed so please don't come in"—which is lovely, their communication and accommodations and safety perceptions have been consistently great, and tbh I wish the checkout periods and no late fees were always this generous. But. "The library, which just reopened after the plague-related closure, is closed again because its entire district is on fire" is so ridiculously indicative of this fucking year and I hate it.
  
  
• The only thing that can make quarantine worse is an air quality advisory! ...Honestly, I appreciate temporary moments of isolation, struggle, deprivation, that power outage/snowed in feeling. But the apocalyptic moodlighting, that "weekend home in Lothric*" feeling, isn't the same. It's claustrophobic, it's heavy; it made me feel trapped in a way quarantine hasn't, given my native agoraphobia.
  
  * Lothric is the city in Dark Soul 3 and I actually have a lot of feelings about living in Dark Souls, which is effectively one of my hearthomes even tho hearttype/hearthome language doesn't usually appeal to me. But when you live in Dark Souls you are part of the lifecycle of Dark Souls, which I've written about in depth before. I find that framework cathartic and productive ... but I don't wish it upon this nation and this planet in 2020; indeed, the dystopic fantasy of burn it down, start over is actively counterproductive. Our world (our people) can't be recreated from the ashes; our world shouldn't be liberated from that endless cycle of staving off destruction; that fiction distracts us from the necessary of work of healing. My point here is that my vacation in Lothric was bittersweet. It was in many ways a concrete externalization of the existential fear of global warming et al.: look ye, look ye, for the world is literally on fire, the sky is red as if the eclipse hung in the heavens!! But the cause and solution are markedly different, and the closeness of that fictional framework isn't a comfort—it's terrifying.
  
  
• We emerged from wildfire haze to discover that autumn was here? ??? It's picturesque in comparison, these bluegrey rains and yellowdead leaves. August, who has been a little standoffish because of summer heat and her general wariness since the introduction of the overly-social babyboy cat, has begun to insist on daily snuggles in a warm lap. I've already made one batch of apple sauce, which came out closer to stewed or even caramelized apples, deep brown and caramel savory/sweet, without losing their chopped texture. I'll start on the next batch when I'm done with this post. I have pumpkin bread planned! It's great.
  
  
• And Speaking of Toby! The fur he lost at the humane society from the combo neuter surgery and collar has all grown in (and probably his winter coat is coming in, too), and he is again transformed. It turns out that's where he was hiding all his fluff. His cheeks in particular have grown a little lion mane. I didn't think there could ever be another cat I might love as much as August ... but things seem to be developing in that direction. I'm so proud of the gradual improvement in interactions between Toby and August, and glad that I taught him tricks off the bat because having "good boy" as a way to provide instant feedback on his behavior is so useful. I love cats every day, love mine every day, would not be complete or happy without them ... but I love them most in autumn, the most picaresque season to have two black cats, one coincidentally named October.
  
  
• My dad died in October, and I hate & am grateful for that timing. Anticipating that anniversary contaminates my favorite season, but loving this season offsets that dread. And as little spiritual as I've turned out to be, that autumnal cycle of death still resonates in a way that makes it feel like a natural time to mourn.