Looking Out My Back Door

The Adventures of Spunky Bastard (Part I)

In mid-July, a tiny black kitten joined the mob scene of cats who come to my door for food. The other two (yeah, OK, a small mob) treated him well, but all my cat-loving friends and neighbors were concerned for his safety on the mean streets of Fresh Meadows. So, it was decided that I would trap and adopt him. (No one consulted my two furry roommates, 16-month-old brother and sister, Scraps and Moochie, but they had watched Spunky through the window and not seemed too upset by his presence. He would even jump into the flower box and try to communicate with them through the window pane. It appeared that they would get along.)
I'd never really wanted to have more than two cats, but my icy heart melted as the days went on and Spunky started feeling more comfortable with me, especially when I'd sit on the stoop and play with him, manipulating his favorite "play stick."
On Saturday, August 14, I trapped him rather easily (he'll never allow THAT to happen again, trust me) and off we went to the vet. He came out of the cage willingly for Dr. Tuzio (she has the magic touch) and even allowed me to hold him, purring nicely all the while. All his tests came back clean, except for a few fleas, which were treated with a miracle anti-flea gel, and we left for home. I brought him straight upstairs to the second bedroom (now being transformed into a media room) and set him up for his mandatory isolation from the other guys.
Spunky was more than ready to mix with his new roommates, but they were less than enthusiastic. After a couple of days, I started letting him have supervised interaction, and he immediately became enamoured of his new big brother, Scraps. It was very cute, reminiscent of how I once felt about Jack Wagner: total adoration. Scraps tolerated the hero worship routine fairly well, but ol' Mooch (who could pass for Spunky's mother) was less welcoming, showering him with hisses.
The next week and a half were exhausting for me, as I was trying to give them all equal time. I would go to sleep in my room with Moochie and Scraps, then switch to the other room around 2 am and spend the rest of the night with Spunky. However, after another weekend of supervised visitation, I felt comfortable enough to leave them all together when I left for the salt mines on Monday. It worked! Moochie continued to hiss for awhile, but eventually gave in to the inevitable and grudgingly welcomed him to the family. I knew all was well when I caught her bathing him. They were also caught napping together, two kitties entwined in a circle of jet-black fur. The hero worship of Scraps continues still, though wrestling matches are part of the daily routine.
And the m-f'in saga continues...next installment of The Adventures of Spunky Bastard to be posted soon!

posted by Hopster @ 10:33 AM