She said her friend who lived across the street from her was being forced by cost to move from house to apartment. The apartment management didn’t allow kitties. “Would you like to have the kitty”? I paused before answering. “You want me to take the kitty’?
“Well, only if you want to.
I paused again.
She knew my dear Lady Tallahassee had died a few months earlier. It was this that made her think I might welcome a new kitty. Many people think this way. I don't.
I regard every living creature as a one-of-a-kind soul that cannot be replaced. The earthly shell can be replaced, but not the soul. Lady Tallahassee was a singularity. Replacing her with another cat, impossible.
I didn't tell any of this to the lady. She wouldn't understand. She was trying to be helpful to her friend, and to me. I respected her intentions. Instead of saying no,
I said, "If no other home can be found, I'll take the kitty".
Days passed. I got an email with a photo of two cats, and a question, "Which one do you want"? I don't know how one cat became two cats. Did her friend mislead her. Did she mislead me? I decided it didn't' matter. Two cats needed a home. I couldn't be the cause of two pals being separated. I emailed back one word - "Both".
She said that made her laugh.
Which one do you want”?
A few days later the "friend who lived across the street" arrived at my door. She brought not only the kitties, but also a large cardboard box filled with their toys. "That's a lot of toys". "Well, they each have their own". I wondered about this.
While the kitties stared with frighted eyes from inside their carrying case. We chatted about them.
The grey was named, Macy Gray. The calico was named, Montrose. The lady telling me this was in her early twenties. I understood her choice of names.
She said she had gotten them both at an animal shelter about six years ago. We let them out of the carrying case. They made a fast, crouching tour of the living room, then vanished into the narrow darkness behind the audio equipment. "Oh, they're a little scared, it's a new place, they'll be out soon".
Sure enough, a week and a half later they
did come out.
In the meantime, I put out food, water, and litter box, which they used under shelter of night. When they did come out their early daytime travel consisted of thorough inspection of every nook and cranny. I think they already knew these places. They just wanted to re-check in the daytime to see if anything had changed.
I addressed each by name. They stared blankly. After that I only called them Calico and Grey. They didn't mind. Cats have secret names they don't tell to humans.
I don't mind.
They did think dinner very important.
When they were still in hiding I only fed them one meal per day. Now that they were out, I introduced them
to House Rules for feeding: four small meals, daily - served at 8:00 am, 12 noon, 4:00 pm, and 8:00 pm. There are also a few Kitty Treats served before bed at 11: pm.
Each kitty has her own white porcelain bowl set on either side of a shared basin of water. The basin is also porcelain. It's white with a delicate pattern of tendrilled greenery.
I thought it appropriate table setting for two lady cats. I am not a barbarian.
First meal brought surprises. Grey wolfed her way through her serving, then moved on to Calico's half-finished serving. I had wondered why Gray was a little rotund and Calico a little too thin. Now I knew. I stopped gray to let Calico finish eating. Gray couldn't see the point, but gave way, anyway. I don't think either cat had ever given much thought to rules.
They adapted.
Now they both go to their appointed bowl, Gray to the left of basin, Calico to right of basin. They don't say so, but I think they both appreciate the comforting continuity
of fixed-rules.
Since both now eat the same amount of food, Gray has been losing weight and Calico has been gaining. The small, regular meals result in clean-plate club all 'round.
I follow the same schedule for myself and for the small creatures on the deck. We all eat small meals
four times per day.
More surprises. The pals I had saved from being separated don't seem to be pals at all. They like me well enough. They despise each other. There are two or three hissy-fits each day.
I'm still searching for the reason. There may be several reasons.
Gray is likely a few years younger than Calico.
She likes to play. When she runs up to Calico, Calico takes it as an attack. Gray is laid-back. Calico is jumpy. Gray is affectionate. Calico, is like Greta Garbo, "I vaunt to be alone".
I'm starting to suspect they didn't really come from the same house.
They're getting better.
In time, who knows? Maybe proximity will breed acceptance, even friendship. I'm hopeful, it doesn't cost any more.
I've been taking them out on the deck. I have to keep an eye on them. it's a sixteen-foot drop to the ground. I don't allow them up on the railing. They really like being out on the deck.
Me too. They ramble around while I read. They also make sporadic dashes for bird, squirrel, or chipmunk.
Nothing comes of it; the outside animals are on to them. Still, everyone enjoys the running and chasing.
I doubt either kitty ever suspected there a was such a place as outside.
I think the quiet afternoons in sun and greenery has brought them closer. Hissy-fits are fewer. They may even be starting to think of themselves as sisters. I'd like to think so.
After many weeks now of peaceful afternoons
on the deck all the creatures are getting more comfortable with each other. A few days ago one of the yard-racoons stopped by for a snack. Racoon and kitty's were fascinated with each other but no fisticuffs ensued.
We'll do alright.
Winter will interrupt the fun. I'll tell the kitties to be patient.
Summer will come again. Honest!
Out on the deck making a new friend.