Let me tell you a little about Robin.
She likes the bathroom. We call her Bathroom Cat, sometimes, and when you go in the bathroom and she’s in her spot on the sink she purrs and rubs against the faucet until you turn it on for her to drink from.
She does this silent meow when you talk to her. It’s quite endearing, and might lead one to believe that she does not make noise. That, however, is entirely not the case. In the mornings, when my alarm starts going off, so does her increasingly loud “Hey, I’m in here, pay attention to me!” noise. I rescue her from the room where she sleeps at night (still keeping her separated from Loki overnight, primarily to allow her some time to eat and use the litter box without fear of being pounced upon). I get up and pee, and Loki is already crouched right outside her door waiting to be let in. I open the door and say good morning, and she runs over to me and puts both paws up on my leg to be picked up. I carry her into the bedroom and deposit her on usually-still-sleeping Dan before I get in the shower.
When we brought her home from the shelter in the cardboard box with holes, this tiny kitty managed to shred the inside and nearly escape from it; I had to hold it closed on my lap. She also yowled up a storm like someone was pulling out her guts with a grappling hook.
Everything about bringing home a new kitty says to keep New Kitty separate from Existing Kitty for at least a week, so we did our best to follow every instruction. After multiple successful escape attempts (through two baby gates and 3 feet of cardboard duct-taped to the doorway), we realized she was just going to figure out how to get out of anything. Since then, she’s avoided floors whenever possible and uses us as conveyance from room to room (bedroom to bathroom to living room to her room) so she can avoid being pummeled by Loki, who doesn’t quite understand yet that it isn’t nice to sneak up on her.
She loves just about every toy we’ve tried, seems thoroughly interested in People Food in general (something we do our best to discourage), and purrs at the drop of a hat. She’s made it very clear to both of us that we are her people.
Robin became Robin for a multi-part reason. First, Dan’s brother has always called Loki Batman, because he has a mask on his face. Fair enough. Robin will be Loki’s smaller sidekick. Robin is also an escape artist and an acrobat. And she’s got a reddish chest and belly.
Yesterday morning I had Loki in my lap and Robin snuggling up to my leg. It was the closest they’d been with no hissing or yowling since we brought her home, and both napped peacefully, Robin’s head inches from Loki’s tail. It’s taking him quite a while to get used to having a new kitty around; I’m sure he’s still mourning Petra, and he’s always been extremely territorial and Alpha Male, and we’re doing our best to let him show Robin that He Is The Boss.
It’s been less than a month, and we’re both already quite smitten. Robin has a lot of personality traits that are similar to Loki’s, and some that are similar to Petra’s. Plus, she’s got some things that are Just Hers, and I’m sure as she continues to grow (and grow and grow, sheesh, she’s probably twice as big now as when we got her!) we’ll learn more about our new friend.