So, I searched the websites of some animal shelters for a kitteh, but there weren't any the right age. So, I searched all the classified ads, looking for the nicest-sounding owner (I'm not encouraging unpleasant ones to get more cats!).
I immediately found an excitable advert extolling the virtues of my babies! They need new mummies and daddies! They're used to being kissed and cuddled! They are beautiful fluffy balls of fun!!! and thought OK, that's perfect. Even though I would rather drown in a barrel of eels than write that advert myself, I want to buy a kitteh from someone who has.
We walked through the door, said hello, sat down, and were immediately covered in kittens. The lady had 10, from two litters, and was obviously only selling them because her husband thought that 10 more cats was excessive.
Four of them had new homes, five of them didn't (she's hoping her husband won't question that calculation).
I sat there, covered in friendly kittehs, panicking because how the hell can one possibly choose? Will we have to choose our children like this?
This was, I swear, the conversation that came next:
Kitteh: (to Hagrid) You are mine now! Kthx!
Hagrid looked puzzled, as you would if a cat had just telepathically yelled at you.
Hagrid: "I... like that one."
Kitteh: "You better! I love you. Lovelovelove you - put me down and, I swear, I'll claw your hand off to the best of my ability - love you!"
Hagrid: (still puzzled) "I... love you? Yes, yes I do." He has never looked at a girl like that before!
Me: "Pass her over, then."
Kitteh: "I don't fuckin' think so, mate - I want my daddy back! I love him lots and lots and lots!"
I gave her back, and she smugly fell asleep in his hand.
She comes home on the 27th. Hopefully, she'll get as keen on me when she realises I'm the more reliable source of food.