Photo by Steve Johnson – Unsplash
There comes a time when, as the holder of the Deed to a single cat, your mind could wander to thoughts of getting another cat. There is no explanation as to why you would begin to think this way – it just happens.
I certainly didn’t think it would happen to me. I was literally minding my own business, sitting at the dining room table when Bruce passed me the Strathmore Standard showing a cat that was up for adoption at the Cat Sanctuary. I agreed that she was cute and handed the paper right back.
The next week, Bru hands me the paper again and there she is, the same cute cat up for adoption. I couldn’t understand why no one hadn’t snapped this one up. She was adorable. All fluffy and she had great big green eyes.
This time, Bru pulled the paper back before I had a chance to say anything and now I was even more interested. So I said I would call the Sanctuary and see what she was all about.
I made the call the next day and was told that she was young and a really nice cat. And yes, she was still available. Hmmm. I asked about whether I could meet her. The gal on the phone was quite enthusiastic and said I could come over the next day. This got me wondering. Cute little cat. Fluffy. Green eyes. Classic demon possession perhaps? Maybe her religion doesn’t recognize the litterbox? There had to be something.
I went over the next day and met the little critter who ran by the name of Sweeper. She was spayed, healthy and friendly. Michelle of the Sanctuary told me that there were other cats who had beat up Sweeper at the litterbox and took her lunch money. That did it for me. Nobody beats up my cat. I signed the papers, paid the fee and we went home.
I settled her into a separate room with everything she would need and after thoroughly checking the Internet I decided I would keep her in there for about a week before I did a face to face with Bella. The room was between the main part of the house and Bella’s litterbox and Bella would inch by on the other side of the hallway whenever she passed so she clearly knew something was up.
Then I renamed Sweeper to Abby and we were on our way.
I spent time with Abby, cuddling and chatting, letting her get used to the whole idea of us. She was charming, curious and really seemed to want out of the room to meet Bella. Not yet.
After about three days the all wise Internet said to take a pair of socks and wipe the temple of one cat and then give that sock to the other cat and vice-versa. Sounded like a good plan to me. Virtual introduction without claws, just in case they didn’t get along.
So that is what I did. I wiped the temples of each cat and gave one sock to Abby, who seemed delighted to know more about this stranger who had been on the other side of her door. She purred and sniffed and it couldn’t have gone better.
I gave the other sock to Bella who took one sniff and literally jumped straight up in the air, easily two feet, straight up, straight down. Then she ran for her life. I went over the steps. Wipe cat on temple – Check. Exchange socks – Check. Let cats smell socks – Check. Caution, do not wipe the temple of a Yeti or wolverine in error – Check. Okay, it was Bella’s issue. This was getting interesting. I let Bella go off and call her lawyer. The little fuzzy cat was staying.
Later that afternoon, Bruce had parked himself in the ensuite bathroom off of the master bedroom and Bella was still incommunicado. I was heading to check our bed to see if she was laying there when I smelled something, and I mean, I SMELLED SOMETHING.
I knew Bru was in the bathroom and I thought, hmmm, that boy needs to see a doctor – there is a closed door between us and my eyes are tearing up. WHAT IS THAT SMELL?
Then I realized it was coming more from the bed area. I went closer to the pillows, MY pillow to be exact, which had been placed so nicely on top of the sheet flap which had been folded over the comforter when I made the bed. My eyes were running now, so I grabbed the edge of the sheet, just under my pillow and pulled it back a bit and laying there, just for me, were two fresh, glistening turds, side-by-side. Like, what the hell? Who does this? Rhetorical. I know exactly who did this. The Devil herself. BELLA. THE HEIFER FROM HELL. Are you kidding me?
I debated calling HazMat in case they wanted to open a file on this specimen, and decided this couldn’t wait. I disposed of the offending links, changed the bed, put the sheets in the washer under the 473 minute wash program, doubled my meds and sat down, holding my head in my hands.
This was War. Clearly. Was I supposed to do something back to her now? I am unfamiliar with Feline War Etiquette. Maybe a firecracker in her Litterbox? Actually, that is kind of funny to me – I can see her running like hell down the hall, but I can’t quite put together the vision her coming back with a broom and dustpan so the cleanup would be my job. Hard No on that one. Besides, that would be mean.
I’d take away her catnip but I’m pretty sure she has her own dealer. I think he comes over when I’m at work because every now and again I can hear Pink Floyd playing somewhere in the house when I get home. When I go looking, it shuts off.
So rather than start any more nonsense, I did what anyone would do, and I hunted her down. I found her in a back bedroom, suffocating a furnace vent with her body. I picked her up and we went for cuddles and chats. I told her all about Abby and stressed the point that Abby was an orphan with no money, no toys, how she hates treats and had been getting beat up. Then I just went over to the bedroom and opened the bloody door so Abby could come out and all was revealed.
I think when Bella saw the little scrap of cat that had been hiding behind that door all this time, she was quite relieved. She came over, sniffed a couple of times and flounced off. Abby started snooping around and spent a good part of her day trying out various napping spots and kitchen counter positions until she was satisfied that she had some favourite places of her own.
As for those sheets, well, we are still using them, but the famous flap seems to always wind up on Bru’s side of the bed. It must be how they come out of the dryer.
Life settled in again as the two cats avoided each other. Sometimes the two of them would go streaking by, one after the other but the bloodshed was minimal. The girls are friends but every now and again, THE HEIFER and I lock eyes…