So I have five cats now. I know, I know. Let me explain.
At girls’ night last night, Alicia was talking about our friend Sarah, who’s been out of town taking care of her ill mother for several months now. Her two cats have been staying with some girl ‘D’ that neither of us know, but apparently D really didn’t want the cats anymore, and she and Sarah had been arguing. Plus D had been making the cats live outside, when they’re indoor cats and they don’t have their outdoor shots. D had started to make weird threats about money Sarah owed her (we’re talking like $50 here), and, basically, Sarah wanted her cats out of that girl’s house, stat. The only quick option was Sarah’s ex-boyfriend, with whom Sarah didn’t much want to be speaking. I totally felt for her — I would be intensely stressed out if I thought my cats were living with someone who might be neglecting them or risking their health, and I would be intensely stressed out about having to deal with an ex-boyfriend over the cats, and to have to worry about all that on top of an ill mother just seemed like too much for anyone.
“Tell Sarah I’ll take them,” I told Alicia. “But just for a week, while she looks for other boarding options.”
Alicia called this morning. “Sarah is beyond relieved that you’ll take the cats. We’re going to get them this afternoon.”
So Alicia and I drove down to Burien, where the girl had already placed all the cat items in the driveway and put the cats in the cat carriers, also outside in the driveway. It was very weird. But Sarah had a TON of stuff for these cats, so we loaded a gigantic cat tree into the car, along with piles of cat beds and litter boxes and toys and catnip and brushes and then, finally, the cats. At the suggestion of D, we placed their carriers face-to-face so that they could at least look at each other during the traumatic time in transit. Then we drove back to Seattle and brought everything up to my apartment. “I feel like I’m moving someone,” said Alicia. “I’m sweating!” Seriously it was a lot of stuff to move.
We got the cats, Chloe and Riley, all set up in the guest bedroom with their cat tree and their toys and a litter box and food. The plan was to keep them separated from the other animals for awhile, to minimize the stress. Chloe immediately curled herself up in the guest bed’s comforter and refused to come out. (”It’s a Chloe burrito,” explained Sarah later.) I decided to leave them alone in there for an hour, and Alicia headed home. Here’s a shot of Chloe in her burrito:
After about an hour, I tip-toed into the room. Riley was doing just fine, lounging around like he owned the place and jumping all over the cat tree. Chloe was still in her burrito. So I laid down in bed next to her so that we were face-to-face, and I introduced myself and told her she was a very beautiful girl who was safe here with me. Then, slowly, I reached my hand out to pet her. I expected her to hiss, like she had the last time I’d tried. But this time, she rolled over so I could get her tummy better, and she purred and purred and purred. We laid like that for a few minutes, and then I got up off the bed to give Riley a hug, and, sure enough, Chloe pulled herself out of the burrito and decided it would be okay for her to play on the cat tree. Progress!
A few hours later, I thought I’d open the guest bed door to see what happened. Chloe was having none of it — she stayed put, curled in the fortress of the cat tree. Riley, however, slowly tiptoed out to see what was beyond the doors. In this case, it was Leo and my male cat Max. (Josie and Ashley want nothing to do with this — they were watching quietly from their thrones on my bed.) At first, it seemed Max and Riley would be okay — they approached each other slowly, nose-to-nose, and I thought they might come to an arrangement. But then the hissing started, so I put Riley back in his room.
An hour after that, I opened the door again. This time, Riley skulked out and infiltrated the living room. Leo wanted so very badly to play with him, but Riley was having none of it. The good thing is that Riley never made a move to hurt Leo — he’d either just run away or sit there and cry while Leo jumped all over him. I thought it was all going marginally well, until I discovered that Riley and Max were having a full-blown cat-fight in the guest bathroom. Howls galore, fur flying. This won’t work. I put Riley back into the guest bedroom, where he’ll stay for the night, along with Chloe.
It’s interesting, because I’d expected Riley to battle with Josie. Max is the last cat I adopted. When I brought him home, Josie, my oldest girl cat and the alpha in the house, freaked out. They would hiss at each other endlessly, for weeks and weeks, before they got used to each other. I think what they decided is that Max gets to be the alpha cat, but Josie retained the right to have the best spot next to me on the bed. Josie would sleep on my stomach, and Max at my feet. (When we got Leo, this changed — Leo gets my stomach, Josie gets my feet, and Max lost his spot on the bed entirely.) But I think, all in all, Max is probably the recognized Alpha in this house right now. So he’s the one responsible for battling the invading forces of Riley. I was really, really surprised about how Josie stayed out of it entirely. There’s definitely a hierarchy among my cats, and they’re far more clued into it than I am.
Anyway. Riley and Chloe are just the most darling kitties ever, except for mine. I’m sure we will eventually work it out so that they can come and join our little world in the living room, but I think right now they’ll need to be separate.
Mostly, though, I’m humbled to have the opportunity to help a friend in need, even if it does mean I have a 6-to-1 animal/human ratio in my apartment. More animals to snuggle with just makes me happier. What are they gonna do? Shed on my furniture? Rip up my couch? Already. Been. Done. And I have plenty of snuggles to go around!
