Rothko is O'Keeffe's son, the only surviving kitten of a litter of two, from the first and only time she was impregnated, an accident when she escaped from the house before she was fixed. At the time I was up to my eyeballs in stress, and I was determined I'd hate the whole thing and I was a horrible irresponsible cat owner for letting it happen. Then O'Keeffe insisted on having her kitten(s) on our bed, with us all present. Rothko stole my heart immediately.

His colouring and patterns are identical to his mummy's, perhaps a bit more pronounced, but he has short hair and does not have the Main Coon hair traits. He's enormous, however. Currently only a year and a half old, he is larger than his mummy and auntie, and only looks as if he'll get much larger.

He has largely chosen to me to be his human, though he also loves to lay on the back of Alex's computer chair. Rothko frequently follows me around the house, comes when I call, and always will follow me upstairs to bed. There have been times I've taken daytime naps and woken to find him curled up behind my knees, under my arm, or on-top of my head, too. He fetches, and loves his crinkley ball so much, he frequently insists on taking it to bed with us, sometimes burrowing beneath the blankets like a ferret with it were he'll sleep.

Rothko is the best cat in the whole world. He was named after Mark Rothko, as he reminded me of Rothko's paintings such as Untitled (Orange and Yellow), Orange and Tan, and Red, Orange, Orange on Red.