Our little ball of crazy, Bertie aka Bertram aka Berts.
Due to his rescue status (thrown out on the streets by an anonymous owner with a brother also thrown out some days later) we cannot be 100% sure of his age, but believe he was born in August. He came to us in November aged approximately 12 weeks and despite trying to eat the rubber sealant from all the windows, climb everything in sight from shelves to curtains and having almost completely destroyed the bannisters, we love him. He is sweet and affectionate and likes to be stroked and cuddled but more than that, he is ridiculously relaxed with George, at times when he is jumping around or shouting and when any normal cat (especially Boo) would take to the hills at top speed, he sits still and watches. Waiting for storm to pass and then comes over and rubs his head against him. George, who hasn't quite got the cat-name thing, alternates between calling him Boo Boo (Boo is a cat, the first cat he ever knew, therefore all cats must be called Boo) and Ha-bertay - this is an amalgam of Bertie and Happy Birthday that happened quite by accident when I introduced him as ''not A Boo but A Bertie'' whilst reading a book called Hic and Hullabaloo which has a double page spread of the farm animal's birthday party (it's a complicated life being 2).
Happy Half Birthday Bertie!