Max, for short. Cory and I adopted him Monday. He's about 3 years old and very sweet. They had named him Maximus at the shelter and even though I really wanted to choose a new name for him (since I think naming a new kitty is part of making the kitty part of my family), he really is a Max. They got it right.
He has been exploring the house, cuddling with us, and generally being very cool about everything. Gracie, on the other hand, is pissed and scared. It doesn't look like there will be any catfights to break up, since he doesn't seem fazed by her hissing and she is ultimately a chicken, but I am hoping she gets used to his presence soon. Right now she's hiding in the bathroom (That's what she does anytime she gets scared. When there's a thunderstorm, she hides in the bathroom, too.) and hissing when she hears Max go by or when she is feeling particularly stressed. I think that when she accepts the fact that he's staying and starts to get braver, they will eventually be buddies.
I am a teacher, grad student, writer, voracious reader, photographer, singer, feminist, and thriftstore fashionista. In no particular order.
I am Squirlaraptor. This name was originally created for my kitty to reflect her squirrel-like fur and her raptor attack skills and has recently been adopted by me to reflect my own curious nature and tendency to hoard as well as my (sometime) fierceness and my love of the hunt (at least, in terms of shopping and research--not so much in terms of killing and maiming, vegetarian that I am).