Welcome the heir apparent, who arrived last evening to ensure the line of succession, and may someday even assume the august title king of Maine if he is bossy enough.

He's 12 weeks old, a little busybody, affectionate and sociable, slept all night tucked up under my chin, and is delighted to be here. No name yet, though Tom did refer to him as the Replacement. This led us to thinking about the band known as the Replacements, which unfortunately is full of people who already have our own family names (Tommy, Paul). So the kitty would have to be Bob, which doesn't seem to be sticking so far.

I assumed I'd be up for much of the night with the cat, but magically he slept well and so did I. Presently he's swarming up my shoulder and squirming over the keyboard, and I'm sure I'll be besieged all day. He's got a giant purr and a plaintive squeaky meow and he hurtles around the house like a tiny bumper car, and currently Tom is admonishing him: "You're kind of an attention hog, aren't you?" "Yow," replies the attention hog.