Maki is a Maine Coon, and to make things even more interesting he's got polydactyly, meaning he has more than the normal complement of toes. All four feet have extra toes. In breeder parlance that means he's "polydactyl 4WD", and the "4WD" actually means "four-wheel drive".
He was born in early May, and we picked him up today from a breeder in Cedar Rapids.
That is the first time I've been back to Cedar Rapids since this time which was March 23, 2007, so it's been ten years since I was there.
We left yesterday evening, spent the night in a hotel, then came back this afternoon with a brief stop at the breeder to pick up the kitten.
I enjoyed our brief soujourn in CR, my adopted home town. A lot has changed in ten years. Fiesta Del Sol is no longer there; it's a Mattress Firm instead (*whimper*). Rockwell-Collins is still there, and they have more office space than ever. They tore down the antenna farm and put up more office space. Yeah, they really needed to get rid of people, didn't they? *rolleyes*
Did not have time to see all the sights I wanted to see. Did manage to take a quick spin past the old apartment building; looks like it's being renovated. Drove down by the river, then out of town via 8th Avenue; and didn't look back.
So we get him home, and he's not here three hours when we had a major uproar and panic, thinking he'd somehow gotten outside. He was nowhere to be found; our attention had wandered and *poof*--and I'd gone outside briefly to take out the trash.
Mrs. Fungus and I were panicking (I was panicking, she was trying not to) and I was wandering around the outside in the heat and humidity, sweating buckets, literally praying the kitten was not dead. The eighth or ninth time I went outside to make the circuit of the house, Mrs. Fungus called to me that she'd found him.
Where was he? In the only piece of furniture I didn't look in, the nightstand in our bedroom. Of course, he'd found an out-of-the-way place to curl up for a nap, utterly innocent of the bedlam taking place in his absence.
Well, it has a happy ending, and that's what counts.
When I was very young--3 or 4--Mom lost track of me, and couldn't find me anywhere, so she called the police. After doing that, she went downstairs and found me asleep in the laundry basket.
Mom is laughing right now. God bless her.