King Arthur

     Last May my youngest son, Lincoln, decided he wanted a kitten.  His Language Arts teacher had talked to them in class about her cat having a litter of kittens.  Of course, he talked me into it.
     We met his teacher at Pet Smart to pick up the kitty.  It was a small white male with ice blue eyes.  He was so frightened of us, but my son gently held him and whispered sweetly--soft, encouraging words that everything would be fine once we got him home.
    Returning home, we discussed what to name this squirmy bit of fluff.  Since he was Lincoln's responsibility, I felt it was his job to come up with a name.  After considering one name after another, my son settled on one that belonged to one of his favorite characters:  King Arthur.
    As the cat has steadily grown over the past year, he
continually shows why a kingly name is very appropriate!  He sits in the sunshine of his window sill, stretched out snoozing while we go about our daily chores.  If he decides to crack open his eyes, it is only to meow harshly when he doesn't get the attention he feels he rightfully deserves.  He will sneak up on silent paws to jump on an unsuspecting ankle or leg to announce his royal presence is ready to have his fur stroked.
     I don't know about the true nobility of our version of the king, but I certainly know he rules our home!

Arthur, as a kitten, sitting on the laptop keyboard.  Spoiled rotten!

Arthur, showing off his blue eyes for  us!