Here are two photos I took at the shelter. He had long tufts of fur sprouting from his ears as a baby:
We thought he'd be the mellowest kitten ever. When the staff person at the shelter warned us that he was "a little devil," we figured she had mistaken him for someone else.
He did lie around a lot in adorable poses... when he wasn't trying to kill himself.
As my husband says, Toffee has perfect proportions. Even as a kitten he looked like an exquisite, tiny cat. Harris, on the other hand, had a long "awkward stage." Even now his feet and fangs are too big for the rest of him.
Toffee was no saint. A few thousand dollars in emergency vet hospital bills later (jumping on hot stove, eating string) we learned to pay attention to everything that shelter people tell us.
True to form, he climbed the tree that first year. As a one-year-old, he chewed and ATE the bulbs from the tree lights. Lots of them. Last year, I couldn't bear to assess the damage. This year, all bets are off.
He is fabulous. When we pet him, he gets so excited that he flops all over the place and often ends up giving himself a choking fit. He gets along with all the other cats and claimed dibs on Lion when he arrived.
Thanks for being our cat, Toffeepot!