So this year hasn't been off to a great start, even without the daily garbage fire that calls itself the Trump Administration. In December, Pixel got very sick -- she was hardly eating and it seemed like all her age suddenly caught up with her at once. It's very likely she had something cancerous going on, but the tests to confirm that were all expensive, invasive, and painful. So we decided to make her as comfortable as possible, and she rallied a bit throughout the month. But in the first week of January, she stopped eating altogether and couldn't even hold herself upright. She was 16 years old, and she held on for long enough for us to say goodbye to her.
After this, the house felt so empty though. And we'd always talked about getting a pair of cats when Pixel was no longer with us (she was intensely jealous of any other cat in the house; when Peaby was alive, she was so ill-tempered, and after he'd gone, her personality did a complete 180). So, this happened:
Say hello to Miles Vorkosicat (the black one) and Ivan Vorcatril (the orange one). Miles, like his namesake, is hyperactive and insatiably curious. Ivan, also like his namesake, is very handsome and would much rather be left alone than dragged into some mad scheme. (It is also worth noting that Miles claimed us as his humans within 5 minutes of us meeting him.)