Gosh, how tiny Harris and Toffeepot were when they each arrived, in October and November of 2012. (Harris blew in with Hurricane Sandy from Kitten Associates in Connecticut, and Toffee came from the Animal Rescue League around Thanksgiving. We know Harris's birthday so we assigned it to Toffee, too.)
I've included photos of them with Possum for scale. They're proof of how nicely Possy looked after "his" kittens and put up with their antics. He was paternal and protective, tolerant and playful. He welcomed them both from the moment they came in the door. Thanks to his example, everyone learned to get along.
At four, Toffee and Harris are still playful and funny, sweet and cuddly. They still get into mischief, especially Harris, who enjoys knocking things onto the floor, eating plastic bags, and running around like a maniac.
But it's been a long time since Toffee has tried to poison, electrocute, or burn himself. For a while I wasn't sure he would survive kittenhood because he was so curious and adventurous. (It's bittersweet as well as a relief when kittens finally grow up.)
My first Christmas tree–climbing cat.
Harris still considers himself a baby, nursing on our earlobes and our necks daily. He never did grow into his big feet and fangs.
As a kitten, Toffee had the proportions and presence of an adult cat with his wild-looking markings and bushy, grown-up tail. But now that I look back I can see that his face has matured a little. His nose is longer, his eyes are less babyish. But he was always