Our six-month-old kitten Bertie (for Bertie Wooster, wearer of tuxedos…we think) came to us a couple of months ago and has been giving us joy and laughter ever since. He’s a wonderful cat – funny, playful, affectionate, and gorgeous to look at. He grows about an inch a day and, judging from both his very big feet and very big appetite, we think he’s going to be a very big boy. The best thing of all about him is how much our three-year-old cat Sybil loves him. Our excuse for adopting another cat was that Sybil was lonely, after the death of her companion cat a couple of months before, and Bertie has more than fulfilled her need for cat company. After the first week, when we kept them separate for the most part, with only short periods of getting-to-know-you time, we let him join the family, and she then proceeded to groom him obsessively for a couple of weeks (part of the bonding process I gather, since she’s marking him with her own scent). Just recently they’ve taken to spooning at night, curled up so tightly around each other on one recent occasion that they looked like a two headed cat. His talents – he can walk backwards, play by himself for long periods of time, allow himself to have his claws clipped, purr, and open his mouth very wide to issue a silent scream when he wants food. Guess he hasn’t quite found his voice yet. Every day Bertie finds more adventures, and every day he gets more affectionate with both my husband and me and with Sybil. I’d say he owns us!