Kudos to my grandfather, also affectionately known as Cyberpop, for the subject line. His observation on watching the two kittens slinking and racing through the house for the past couple of days.
Arrived home late last night. Due to a mix-up by the airline staff when we booked in, we were waiting for our poor little kitten in the wrong place. When we finally found him he was sitting in his carry case at the side of a busy heavy-freight driveway. Poor little mite. He was distressed by the experience, but coped well enough. The really distressing part of the day was arriving home and being excited to see a new cat — who promptly spat and snarled and hissed and growled at him. First time I'd seen him actually frightened. He is now leery of all other cats, including that strange little mimicky brown cat in the mirrors.
Since then things have improved, sort of. Mum's cat won't come near the kitten, and growls and mutters and hisses if he comes too close. She has also taken to speaking to any available human in a high-pitched squeak which I presume translates to I hate it! We don't need it! It's horrible!, or something along those lines.
The kitten has also met the rabbit, whom he hates and loathes. (This may change when the kitten is larger than the rabbit, of course.) The poor rabbit is disappointed yet again in his quest for a friend that a) he likes, b) likes him back, and c) I won't object to their playing together.
There will be photos soon, when I get around to resizing and uploading and that sort of joy. I promise. Honest. In the meantime, to give you an idea of Max's temperament (and what he is doing right now):