BerthaBlog

Surprisingly it was the visitor who threw the first punch.

She came down again around lunchtime, attracted by the smell of the bacon my husband was cooking, with the belly-to-the-ground stance of a cat trying to keep a low profile. (My husband said “Why is she walking like that? She acts like we’re going to beat her.”) He offered her some bacon, but she only smelled it; what she’s really interested in is petting and reassurance.

So I sat on the floor and petted her some more. My son came over and petted her for a bit. My husband came over and petted her a little. She purred.

Phurball has been getting more at ease with her presence; he still keeps an eye on her, but he’s no longer glowering. He wanted to get in on all this petting, so he got up and strolled over. His ears were up, his fur was down, he was looking at me and not taking particular notice of the other cat.

She did not like him coming so close to her. She took a swipe at him, spitting vehemently. Swats were exchanged, harsh words were said, and they crouched a foot or so apart looking daggers at each other until I got the Bad Kitty bottle and asked, “Okay, which one of you is going to have to get it?”

The new cat, of course, has no clue as to the significance of the Bad Kitty bottle, but Phurball does. He gave me a wounded look and retreated under the chair. The new cat slunk back over to the fireplace and took up her station on the mantel.

Later my husband offered Phurball the bacon she had refused. I don’t know about him, but I’m finding the whole cat-to-cat interplay very interesting. I’ve never had more than one at a time before.

I wonder if I should mention to my husband that I think she might be pregnant.

…and she’s still up on the mantel.

She did come down at some point during the night to use the improvised litter box I set up for her on the hearth. I was reassured to know that 1) she can get down if she wants to, and 2) she knows where the litter box is.

We’re getting a really weird vibe from this cat. Any cat is nervous when in a strange place, but normally after the first day even the most timid cat will begin to explore and get settled. She remains huddled on the hearth, watching us all go about our day. I’d almost say she isn’t used to being around people, but she’s obviously well-cared for and she likes for us to come over and pet her. She just won’t come down and join us, even when things are calm and quiet.

She really hates to be picked up. My husband tried to lift her down gently last night; she didn’t mind having his hands around her, but as soon as her feet left the surface she freaked and scrambled to get back down. He tried sitting down nearby and patting his leg to invite her to sit on his lap; she was very interested, but stayed on the mantel. So she’s been up there all day, and every so often one of us will go over to talk to her and pet her a little.

The local paper will let you put lost/found pet notices in the classifieds section for free; ours will start today and run through Tuesday. So we’ve agreed to keep her until Wednesday; if nobody has called to claim her by then, I’ll have to take her to a shelter. Since she’s young, friendly, and healthy, her chances of adoption should be good.

Meanwhile, since she’ll be with us for a little while, I went and bought some young-cat food for her. She’s got a good appetite—after spending the last few years coaxing Phurball to eat so he wouldn’t lose too much weight, I’d forgotten how much a healthy young cat will eat. Rather than feed her the expensive food I get for Phurball (special food for cats with bad kidneys), I thought it best to buy her some less-pricey kibble. And as long as I was buying food for her, I might as well buy the kind formulated for cats less than a year old.

Phurball hasn’t complained much; yesterday the vet came by to give him his yearly vaccinations, and he’s generally pretty sleepy for a day or two afterwards. He’s spent the day dozing on the bed.

I hope someone calls. I don’t want to have to take her to a shelter.