My girls were silent for quite a while except Rosie would chirp every time I'd toss a toy for her to chase. Now Rosie talks when she wants attention, but it's still rare to hear anything out of Gilda.

They look very much like mine.

And mine! Amarna's very much a lookalike to Mickey, except she is all-black (save for one white hair on her upper chest--not a white patch, one white hair). As for chatty, well, I've mentioned her habit of meowing while drinking water before. She also mutters while walking.

As an update, I contacted the shelter that has Ghost & Goblin and someone had just beaten us to it.

I continue to look.

Me, I'm still in love with this polydactyl boy but he's too young for us. Apparently.

Oh, he's adorable!

How would you like a slightly grumpy Maine Coon/Siamese and his brother who is a blonde and white? I can ship 'em free.

hopes Pete doesn't remember that the blonde and white kitty actually, is, a dog.

All these kittens are killing me, but we have no lack of local kittens to feed; John's got (I think) eight, having found homes for five of them. And a newish colony we're feeding has a coal black mamacat with two babies, one meezer and one black, about two months old. Cute, to die for.

I am personally in a Big Red Cat headspace, but then, we already have three black ones - four, if you count Willow twice for her size.

Too bad the Ghost and the Goblin were exorcised from the shelter before you could abduct adopt them, Pete.

Gilda and Rosie are a couple of the sweetest (and shyest) kitties I've seen in a long time. I managed to tempt Gilda into sniffing my hand a couple of times, but could not lure either of them into an actual petting. They have yet to learn what they are missing. Or, perhaps, they are just being all Hollywood and want to be adored from afar and I'm just a grubby paparazzo trying to get too close to their space. I will conquer their stand-offishness on my next trip to Chicago!

The cute polydactyl kitty got taken too. Humph.

This is very tough.

Rosie has figured out that the petting thing is pretty cool. She's just shy with new people. Gilda will let me pet her if she's sleepy, but she's still uneasy about being handled. They've both come a long way from the scared little girls I brought home from the shelter.

Very nostalgic pictures, Fay. snif

Our feral, a year old when we trapped him, only squeaked at us for food as a kitten would. The strangest thing is that if we step on or stumble over him he still, after five years, doesn't holler in protest. He runs away, silently.

In the intervening years, however, he has learned the fine art of conversation. As in, peeking in the doorway of a room where a human is, "Hey! My dish is empty!" The only time I ever hear him "call" one of us when he's out of sight is when he wakes up and wonders if he's alone in the house. "Moo?" The rest of the time he only talks when his target is in sight.