Nathan has given the cat a new name: “Knuckles”.
Why? I don’t know. He says, “Knuckles! Cat!” and giggles. Then he tries to give it a big hug around its rump, which it tolerates but doesn’t work out so well in practice. Why? I don’t know. The cat, back to his fighting weight after sixty days of on-demand dry food and a strenuous regimen of sleeping on chairs and lazing near sunny windows, is non-plussed.