. . . well, no. Through the front door, actually, in a cat carrier. And she’s a he, Jasper, the newest member of this absurd household:
He’s about 10 weeks old, 2.1 lbs, found wandering around Jackson Heights and brought to Brooklyn Animal Control.
(He’s propped up on my wrist pad watching me type this right now, which is preferable to having him rolling over the keyboard.)
Jasper’s shelter-given name was Felicia—but, as much as I like cross-gender names, Felicia didn’t cut it.
He is, as you can see, all black, with gold eyes. Feisty, given to chewing on my toes, ankles, and knees, and perhaps more adventurous than a kitten who just got his balls lopped off should be. He’s also a bit stinky, but, due to the aforementioned lopping, can’t be bathed for awhile.
Bean is thoroughly unimpressed.
I had mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I wasn’t ready for another cat. I still tear up when I think about Chelsea’s last days, and Bean and I had settled into a comfortable routine. Why mess with that?
But I think that admission nudged my thinking along and toward a new kitten: It made me realize that I would miss Chelsea no matter what, and that I shouldn’t use her as an excuse for not bringing a kitten into the household.
Yes, a kitten is disruptive, and that’s all right. That’s what I tell Bean, anyway.
AbsurdBeats 
Yay, Jasper!! He’s beautiful! Of course I’m prejudiced in his favor, having two Halloween cats of my own. What does he smell like?
I’m sure Chelsea would approve. (In a hissing-and-spitting kind of way.) You’ve given Jasper a forever home. That’s so lovely.
Sewer.
I’m hoping Bean will stop yowling long enough to pin him down and give him a good tongue-bath.
*Sigh* I know that won’t happen.