The worst thing about having a lot of cats is, people for some obscure reason assume that you want more. Here's the official notice, guys: I am now in the attrition phase of cat ownership. I DO NOT WANT ANY MORE CATS. I am only waiting for one of the ones I already have to go away, so I can get down to the perfect number of cats, which is two. Take your kittens to an animal adoption agency. And for crying out loud, get your pet neutered. Geeze.

Anyway, here they are:

Buster 

...whose full name is Buster Kitten (get it?). Also known as the loud one. The smallest of the four, but full of feistiness.  

Pudd

...pronounced as the first syllable in "pudding." The tortoiseshell in the picture. She's fat, annoying, and has bad personal habits. However, she plays with milk jug rings, purrs like a 747, and really loves...

Mr. Stripey

...a.k.a. Mr. Stripey Kissy Face Belly Man. He loves to give eye kisses, roll over and show his belly, on which (unfortunately) he has bitten off  most of the fur. He also loves it when Pudd washes his head.

Kim

...a.k.a. Mr. Old. Mr. Old has now gone to that big litter box in the sky, where he can have all the treats he wants and a nice spot in the sun. We miss him - he was a good cat.