Named Smudge for the "dirty face" spots on his chin and nose.
He already knows how to jump onto the couch and bed, and the desk, too, though he needs a stool for that. Right now, he's passed out beside the keyboard as I types this. He loves people, it seems, and cries if he's alone to long.
Earlier when Lisa and I went to check the mail, he was crying when we got back, angry that we left. When I parked back over at my desk, he used the stool to jump up, and proceeded to head-bop and nuzzle me, purring his head off. He's a Mama's Suck, it seems, and already spoiled rotten. :D
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