Meow meow

We adopted a cat from Cat City last week.


His most recent alias at the shelter was Frankie, but it didn't really fit him as well as we would have liked, so we'll be changing it again. For the first couple of days we referred to him as New-cat, which of course brought Newman from Seinfeld to mind, and then M came up with Norman. Other possibilities included Fred, Cat-cat, Dude, Hey You, (*tapping on food dish*) Food for Kitteh!, Barney, and (my favourite) Stop Wallowing In Your Litterbox That's Gross. Hmm, I wonder if M would be okay with calling the cat Wally...

Except for that litterbox thing, and my unsureness of what kind of food the new cat likes, and my worries about whether he's eating enough (yes, I do worry even though he has to lose some weight...I don't want another jaundiced cat), he's cool. He purrs when we pick him up, he does the milk tread in our laps, he chases felted woolly toys, and he takes his eleven o'clock crazies very seriously indeed.

For the first couple of days, Chester hissed at New-cat/Norman/Wally, growled at us for our effrontery in bringing this...beast...into his territory, and sulked under various chairs. The new cat did not help matters by trotting around with an air of "Hey, nice to meetcha, what's happening," sprawling in Chester's favourite spots, and sniffing at Chester's backside. They're a lot calmer now, and Chester has resumed some of his usual activities (e.g. lying in the middle of the room wheezing happily), so I think there is hope.