Our intention was to only adopt one kitten, preferably a female. Last month we lost our oldest cat, Kosh, the Orange Menace, the Dread of NJ Vets. He was 17 and had a long and happy life. It was hard to let go of someone who was the heart and (somewhat disturbed) soul of our family.
The answer is always kittens. After four weeks we felt ready to face the adoption event at our local Petco and bring home a bundle of joy and whiskers. Then we met these two. Philip chose me on the spot, while the Husband was cooing at his adorable and tiny sister. Both purred at us still in the display cage. We couldn't choose, and more important: it was obvious we couldn't separate them. They appeared devoted to each other as much as to the idea of finding a forever home.
We took them both.
As for the names, the Husband had pre-chosen the name Kate. After Katharine Hepburn, not the Duchess of Cambridge. Philip is a name I've loved forever; once upon a time I hoped to adopt a doberman pinscher and name him Philip, but obviously that's not happening. So instead, I have a teeny tiny all black kitten who will eventually answer to this name. Kate is obviously a classic tabby. Yes, she's kind of similar to the triple threat (Marigold, Gemma, and Pippa), except for an all white chest and adorable white paws. They have already started to take over the house. Bob's response is to take a nap.