Princess was so heartbroken when her beloved Biscuit died, her daddy immediately told her she could get a new kitten. I was appalled that he would make such a promise so quickly. He's one of those men who can't stand to see a woman cry, even if she's a little girl. Princess eventually got her wish. We went to the local shelter and picked out a male kitten. She named him Apollo.
My cats have always been casual rescues. Just a couple of years ago, a group of volunteers set up an animal shelter in my county, the first one ever. Man, that's the way to go! Adopting Apollo only cost me $39. Sure, all the other cats were free (well, except for Savannah), but this one came already neutered and with his first shots, which cost way more when you buy those services yourself. A bonus is that we know where a couple of his littermates ended up.
He's just a baby, but he was obviously a model for a cat food company in a previous life.
Apollo has his own personality. Instead of staring at me wide-eyed like the other cats do when they want to be fed, he narrows his little eyes as soon as he knows you're looking, as if to say, "I'm starving to death! Look at me, I'm wasting away!" As the only male, he demands tremendous amounts of food. Also as the only male, he has all the female cats wrapped around his little paw.
With Go Go.
And especially with Marshmallow, who is his mother figure, role model, and playmate.
He's even found his place in my office cat organizer.
And he farts. Oh, how this kitten farts! Marshmallow was bad enough, but she grew out of the fart-anytime-a-human-touches-you habit. Apollo needs no such cue. He just farts all the time, toxic tomcat farts, even at his tender age. But he's adorable anyway.