I got up fairly early yesterday because we left HG out of the foster room overnight (we put him up as usual at bedtime Saturday night, but he started meowing sadly (and very loudly) and when I peeked into the hallway, he had one paw stretched out under the door, and it was such a sad little sight that I let him out of the foster room) and Mister Boogers took exception to the addition (however temporary) of another cat to the household by being a great big jerk and picking on Joe Bob. I think Mister Boogers enjoys picking on Joe Bob because Joe Bob responds with an ear-piercing scream. HG, on the other hand, behaved himself quite nicely, spent most of the night on the end of the bed (which means I had five cats on the bed with me, but still managed to sleep pretty well) and didn’t make any trouble.
I spent a good part of the afternoon talking to Splash, who hid in her kitty condo and glared at me and wasn’t charmed by me at all.
COME ON, SPLASH.
So HG, as mentioned, has been spending all his time out in the house with the other cats. I’ve never seen a kitten who gets along so well with other cats. He LOVES the other cats, and if they respond to him by hissing and smacking, he just shrugs and moves on. He and Tommy are fast becoming friends – I caught them snuggling and Tommy licking the top of HG’s head yesterday, and last night I woke up with the entire bed vibrating from the sound of HG’s purring, and I looked over to find Tommy and HG curled up together – and HG doesn’t run from us when we approach him (which he was doing when we first let him out into the house). He’s about ready to go to the pet store and be adopted, I do believe. I think that separating him from Smudgie was a very good idea.
Splash on the other hand, I don’t know. I don’t know what else to try with her. I go into the room and talk to her, I offer her snacks (sometimes she eats them, sometimes she doesn’t). I don’t make prolonged direct eye contact with her, I try to entice her to play, I try to touch her gently (I’ve gotten smart enough to wear a glove, at least) and every time I try to touch her – or even just hold out my hand for her to sniff – she hisses and smacks with her lightning-fast paw of doom.
I don’t know. I’m not giving up, but she’s the most feral cat I’ve ever had as a foster. Maybe when her sister gets here (the lady who has her hasn’t been able to get her hands on her) she’ll come out of her shell. I don’t know. We’ll see.
The other day I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes when something in the big bush outside the window caught my eye.
I was pretty sure it was Newt, but there’s at least one other cat around here who looks like Newt, so I wasn’t positive until I knocked on the window and he turned to see what was going on.
Definitely Newt. He hung out in the bush for a couple of hours before he appeared at the side door wanting to come inside.
Last night after dinner, Fred was doing dishes, and when I walked into the kitchen, he said “What is that?”
Apparently Newt really likes hanging out in that bush. I hope the birds that usually hop and in out of that bush realize he’s there!
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.