Portrait of Thimble (5 months old)

Thimble, at five months old, is a very definite person. He knows what he likes and doesn't like, and is trying to convince me that I won't talk him into liking being kissed on the head. (I'm pretending I don't get the hint, because I'm convinced that if I do it enough, he'll give up and accept it as a gesture of affection.)

He's still the boss, although he's got some subtlety to it now, and places where he doesn't mind not being the boss. When Apricot said you are going to be washed by me and don't you give me that guff about turning this into a playfight, Thimble actually seemed a bit relieved. As if he didn't really want to be responsible for everything all the time.

Thimble being washed by Apricot
while Colby sleeps through the whole thing.

He loves to interact with people. He's my greeter cat--when I have visitors, he meets them at the door and sniffs at them and observes them. And no, you're not allowed to actually pet him yet; he's got to finish his assessment and record it in triplicate and turn it into the head office before you can pet him. Luckily for the patience of my visitors, he's usually very quick in his assessments! 

When I come home, he's in the window waiting for me. Colby may or may not be there, depending on the state of his nap, but Thimble is always there. And when I open the door, Thimble is right there at the door, necessitating a greeting that goes somewhat like this:

"Hi, Thimble; hey Colby; back up Thimble; Apricot, I'm home!" Luckily Thimble doesn't mind being "hoosh-ed" back by grocery bags, postal-service-delivered boxes, or whatever else I'm carrying extra that needs space to come through the door that's more than the space I normally take up.

If I'm doing anything even remotely interesting, Thimble is right there. Sometimes closer than others, depending on what it is and how much space I've requested in the past. For instance, cooking requires more space because I'm moving back and forth along the counter space from the fridge to the oven and back again, and despite my efforts to improve, I rarely look down before moving my feet. 

Things that don't qualify as interesting: reading a book, playing games or checking email (etc) on my phone. Things that do qualify as interesting which are unusual given those things that aren't: watching tv! and taking a nap. I am apparently very interesting when I'm napping. It's not that he wants me to wake up, exactly. It's that he wants to take a nap with me. Very much with me. 

Napping with me on my birthday.
He's out like a light.

Thimble has a quirk that's physical. The last vertebrae of his tail goes off at a 45 degree angle to the rest of them. You can't really tell unless you feel it. I think it's cute, but I'm glad Ginger (the breeder) didn't keep any of his litter for further breeding because I think that sort of thing is genetic (thus, Colby probably has a recessive gene that, if paired correctly, would cause it) and I think it's not an accepted part of the breed standard. I still think it's cute. (It's not a physical problem for Thimble or anything.)

He also snores. On rare occasions.

It is great fun having him around, because he's always involved with what I'm doing, except during the times when it's okay by me if he isn't (I mean, when I'm reading I'd rather not be pestered, but when I'm watching tv I have these helpful petting hands not doing anything and a kitty is welcome). 

His special thing is jumping onto my shoulder. I taught him to jump up on something that's mid-height to me because I certainly don't want him jumping the five feet from the ground to my shoulder. As a grown cat, he'd probably knock me over! 

Then I ask him if he wants up and pat my shoulder with my hand. He has to consider things first, but he'll then launch himself at me, with the aim of getting his front feet over top of my shoulder and his back feet and body somewhere at my chest. He has no intentions of grabbing me. He just launches at me and expects me to catch him. Which I do. When I've invited him up.

Occasionally he forgets that I have to ask him up first, and he launches without warning. Generally this results in him "dribbling" down my front and landing on the floor, with me looking at him going, "well? It's not like I was prepared or anything!". Hopefully he'll get the hint and learn not to jump without my at least knowing about it. Again, the grown up cat size will be a little harder to catch, and impossible if I don't realize he's coming!

He and Apricot are getting along quite well, and often mirror each other. (Mirroring is a sign of getting along.) They have plenty of playbattles but also just times of being together. They don't sleep together yet.

Mirroring. Thimble took a nap with me;
Apricot showed up when I woke up.
He's not asleep, but Thimble's halfway there.

A great battle.
When Apricot's supposed to be cuddling with me.

Thimble's brown part of his tabby coloration is slowly becoming more visible. It's really there around his face, and a gorgeous shade of brown that I'm not used to seeing on cats, but the brown that's currently hidden in his back and side blacks is emerging as he grows. It's fun to watch. I noticed he had brown tabby showing up in his back leg "britches" the other day.

At five months he was ten pounds and a little over half a pound, and taller than Apricot. Perhaps I will rethink my position when he's full grown, but right now, it's nice to have a bigger cat. Oh, sure, I miss the days when I could get all three on my lap, but now I can actually hug Thimble without feeling like I'm going to squish him, or wondering what I'm supposed to do with all the extra arm space.

And he does like being hugged. He has to be on a surface, like the bed, and be hugged against me, to truly enjoy it. But he also likes being hugged when he's standing on my lap, which is quite nice. He's a very hug-able cat.