I’ve been doing everything in my power lately to ignore the fact that an aged crude, racist, sexist, criminal now runs the country where I live. And worse, that many people I know and love probably voted for the crumbum. (Thanks to Uncle Archie for that word.)
So Just for Fun to escape the news–Here is the update on our estranged tabbies. Just like your relatives, they disagree on most everything. And just like your relatives, they don’t get along.
But progress has been made. (See The Cute Cat Post for the beginning of the story.)
The cold nights have forced Tommy Orange to come inside. On the cold rainy days he doesn’t want to go outside, but he isn’t quite ready to be a house cat either. He’s in transition–unhappy in both places and quite grouchy. A far cry from the sweet lovable cat we adopted. Perhaps he just hates November too?
It’s generally an uneasy truce, with one going high and one going low. When they meet, it could be a hiss, or a swipe of paws, or a full chase around the house with Tommy O. usually ending on the bed.
But there have been some bright spots: the blanket sliding down on the slippery couch to put them together; Mini refusing to concede her spot on the bed and jumping up on it regardless; and the two of them sleeping cuddled next to me for more than an hour. I confess to using that excuse to extend my Sunday afternoon nap.
Mostly, we spend a lot of time being referees. Mini eats her special expensive Lamb cat food, mixed with immune support vitamins and probiotics in the kitchen. Tommy O. gets his cheap kibble in the bedroom. Mini covets his kibble and sneaks in to eat it every chance she gets. He could care less. He’s also uninterested in her expensive food; perhaps because he eats the real meat of mice, chipmunks, and moles every evening. But just yesterday, he was in the kitchen eating her food, while she was in the bedroom eating his. It’s enough to make the cat parents give up and say Whatever….
We purchased a rather expensive cat door for Tommy Orange. It fits into the bedroom window that goes out on to the covered back porch, and it was for him to go in and out the window as he chooses. The makers of the window (Cat Flap Fever) have been emailing me, asking for a review, which I would do if either cat had actually used it on their own. The only time either one has used it has been when we have stood there with them and opened the flap. Perhaps they are extraordinarily stupid? It’s been two weeks now, and Tommy shows little interest in using it.
There is one thing they do agree on–the sunny carpet is a good place for an afternoon truce.
so I thought I’d better do as he says. No surprise there — the world is full of pet owners doing what their animals demand.
A wild cat who had three families feeding him, we are fairly sure that he had been chasing a woman and just got too far away from home to find his way back. Litter-trained from the beginning (he went in Mr. H.C.’s open suitcase on the floor!) he has now made the complete transition from wild tomcat to domesticated lap cat. He looks off the porch at the birds and the chipmunks and then comfortably comes back inside to eat from his food bowl; only in his distant animal memory does he remember being a hunter, cold and miserable in the snow, desperately searching for a warm place to sleep.
the circle of life 