We know that we have a lot of re-modelling and other work to do this summer, so very sensibly and with great maturity, as a family we resolved to put off the purchase of our new dog until things (and building dust) had settled a bit. So last Saturday we visited Petsmart, our local pet 'superstore', to simply gather information about adopting and caring for a Golden Retriever puppy. And again, showing amazing maturity and self-control, minutes later we managed to leave the store without the most adorable black kitten called Mr. Fuzzy in tow. However by the following Friday, after several considered family conferences, we made our way to the Mercerville Animal Hospital to finally bring him home.
Mr. Fuzzy is about 8 weeks old, is jet black with green-yellow eyes, and has legs like a wild hare. He is full of energy, very nosy, playful (in fact very kitten-ish) but also loves company. Thomas spends hours playing with him, and while he is good at the teasing, jumping, running around-type playing, he still has some way to go on the quiet, gentle stroking-type interaction. Thomas also hasn't quite worked out that 8 week old kittens can't climb cabin bed ladders - but I expect they can be taught.
One of the serious family conferences took place over dinner at Uno's, where a variety of sensible (and not so sensible) name suggestions were put forward. The staff at the shelter had named him Mr. Fuzzy - lord only knows why, he has short, black fur - but we wanted something which meant something to us. After dismissing names like Gary (as in Spongebob's pet snail), Midnight (the waitress's suggestion was too sensible) and Nathan (why, Thomas ?) our three way vote came down to a choice between Keane - named after Robbie, according to Tom, and the band, according to Linda (and both according to me) - Basil as in Basil Fawlty - Linda and I love the nasal whine of Sybil Fawlty calling "Basil !" while Thomas has developed a great impersonation of Manual bending at the knees and rubbing his hands calling "Basil !" to his pet rat - and Figo which Tom and I thought was about the best footballer name we could find and might be turn into an omen of his impending move to Spurs. Despite the most tortuous democratic voting method - I can't even remember which name won - we found out that none of us can stop calling him Mr. Fuzzy, so Fuzzy it is !!
UPDATE: I guess instead of Figo, we should have considered calling him Edgar instead !
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