So, I spent a couple of hours hanging out in the foster kitten room yesterday. At first, Samba and Rumba hid behind the door in the closet. Then they got curious, and they peeked out. And ran back and hid. Then when it became clear that, hey, I was just minding my own business, man, just laying here on the floor reading and not interested in no little bitty kitties, they came out. They sniffed around the room, sniffed at the space heater I’d brought in with me, sniffed at my water bottle, sniffed at my feet.
Then they settled on the cat tree and snoozed, then kept an eye on me and snoozed. Rumba occasionally jumped down to see what I was doing that sounded so interesting (I rolled some toys across the floor). Neither of them actually approached me for petting, but when Fred got home and walked into the room and approached them, they allowed him to pet them briefly before they skedaddled back into the closet.
Last night, Rumba let me pet her quite a bit (it’s not that she wanted me to pet her, really, just that she was chasing a toy and I happened to be there, so I’d pet her as she went by, and she’d tolerate it) and even purred. I suspect after I spend some time in there today, they might even approach me on purpose and want to be petted.
We shall see!
Rumba keeps an eye on the door (they can hear the big cats out in the hallway from time to time).
Pretty Rumba
Hello, gorgeous.
“Should I let her pet me, or no?”
Samba, exploring.
Samba in the sun.
Checking out the feather toy.
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Previously
2008: Did I mention that Skittles is a pretty girl?
2007: Moonman has earned himself the nickname “Joe Bob” for no reason other than it’s a good nickname for him (also, I occasionally call him “Joseph Robert”).
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.