I was also going for Tobey or Simon, but the kids think Toffee is his correct name. They only think this because it's what we've been calling him for the past 24 hours, though - they all agree that too much change will confuse him (never mind the fact that he appears to have spent the past year or so without any name at all, so what should a day or two make, I ask, but obviously I am outnumbered in this decision).
It is with a massive sigh of relief that I write this post - it seems that our impulsive Pound Purchase is an extremely nice-tempered cat. Phew. He has suffered the kids rubbing his emaciated haunches with a rather, err, firm adoration, and he has endured FDPG sliding madly around on the floor after him whenever he moves spots, all without a spit or a hiss. He seems remarkably sweet and kind, something I didn't stop to think about very carefully when we ducked into the Pound yesterday. Oh, I know, I have three kids so I should have put some careful thought into this sort of venture, but if you read my other posts you'll see that I frequently operate under a certain impetuousness, and that sometimes has its consquences (just ask Richard or my mother). I hate to say it, but I picked ole Toffee because he was a nice colour.
The only thing we have to consider now, besides not letting him escape the house for a week or so, is the large testicles he sports. It causes Max and Dominic no end of hilarity when he plops down on the floor, flings up a leg, and commences some fierce licking Down There. It's even led us to some amusing (on my side) discussions about whether or not THEY could fling up a leg and clean themselves thusly. It probably goes without saying, but they were both rather repulsed by the idea, and even more repulsed that I would even think to ask such a silly question.
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