It wasn't our fault. Really.
We were minding our own business, setting off on our early morning walk to the beach, when a distressed kitten's scream blasted out of the dense growth at one edge of a 4-acre parcel of vacant state land that adjoins our house.
Ian made his way in a few feet, and there was this little guy hanging on a limb, six feet or so above the ground, crying his lungs out. Ian plucked him down, the kitten purred, and it was a done deal.
After a few false starts, he was named Leo. He's the first adoptee since January 1998, bringing our current count to 7.
Leo got an "OK" from the vet, along with his first bill.
And he found the basket of cat toys, and immediately helped himself. He is at maximal playing age. Everything is a toy.
He is also much more dangrous around the house than the last two kittens, both females. They made their dainty way through kittenhood without damage to anything, but in his first few days after rescue Leo managed to break at least one dish, send others flying, and motive us to kitten-proof as much as possible.
Leo is technologically inclined, as these photos demonstrate. He has already figured out how to run the telephone answering machine, and tried to help me with the typing just a minute ago.
And...oh my, those back feet are growing while we watch!
So that's Leo.
The other cats took about a week to stop with the hissing and fussing, and playing is slowly beginning. He's still so much smaller that it takes some learning to find mutual play routines, but they are coming soon.
More later, obviouisly.