Back in May, one of our beloved kitties ran off with the milkman.
(And a great melancholia fell upon the Jostikovitch abode.)
Every effort was made to find out where she went or what became of her, to no avail.
(And the melancholia darkened, became a sense of loss and commiserant grief.)
Some months have elapsed, and LO! A young kitten enters the household!
(And there was much rejoicing - except amongst the other cats who perceived competition for attention, food, access to prime flowerbeddage, etc.)
She is suitably cute, curious and cunning and has quite naturally assumed Alpha Female status among the cats (by default - the others are neutless males). That is not to say that Crabby, the Furry Four-legged Crab hasn't howled and hissed at her simply for existing nor that Psumo the Psychotic hasn't popped her back into Tuesday a couple of times for getting a little too personal. Big-Foot, brother of the cat-gone-missing, is younger and significantly more tolerant, but his basic cattitude is to ignore her.
When she gets a little bigger, I suspect she'll press the advantage and pick up bathing his ears and biting him on the backside where his sister left off.