Of cats

This is Jackjack.  After Squeaky died in July, we went to one of the local shelters to look at cats, and Jackjack wanted to come home with me.  (He's very sleepy in that picture - he wanted to play with Mr. Bear and didn't want pets, but he was so sleepy.)

I didn't actually name him - the shelter had named him Jack, but he was really too little for the name, so it ended up Jackjack.  Of course, it's just "Jack" when I'm yelling at him to stop chewing on things.

He's five months old now, and he weighs about seven pounds.  I hadn't intended to get another white cat, but he was so friendly and snuggly, and I really need a lap cat.  Jackjack is still too hyper to be a regular lap cat, but once he gets a little older and off the kitten chow, I think he'll settle into it more.  Right now patting your leg doesn't encourage him to jump up, just to attack your hand.  He's especially fond of hair rubberbands, and I have to keep them in a drawer now, or he'll steal them off my nightstand.

Jackjack has recently discovered the attic; Squeaky was terrified of it, but if you open the attic door, it's hard to keep Jackjack from running up.  He's not supposed to be in the attic, of course.  It's just New and Exciting.

As you can probably tell by the ears and paws, he's going to be a big cat.