Kitten in the House

When I got back to Oak Ridge, my great-niece texted me asking if I was planning to get a cat. Since I was, I said yes, and then asked if she knew one who needed a home. She did.

Hence Barsa (bars is Russian for "lynx"). Twelve weeks old when she came here, she'd been found in the street with a broken leg by one of Emily's co-workers (they're high school seniors). He took her to the vet, but when he took her home, leg mended (though she sometimes holds it funny when she's lying down) he discovered that his mother was very allergic. So she's with me now, a delightful bundle of fur with horrible sharp kitten teeth. She spent the first few days hiding, but now she's out and about and playing unless a stranger's in the house.

Some pictures (of course!):