cats – Page 2

And Jasper Makes Three

People seem to hope for a birthday to be memorable. This year, I was hoping for a low-key, relaxing sort of day. I didn’t get it.

It was the first day in several that I could sleep in, which I tried my best to do. When we finally woke up, my wonderful husband showered me with gifts and I opened the cards I had received. We agreed to go out for breakfast and hit up the Little Falls antique shops. Everything was off to a perfect start.

But, then, I heard a call from the bathroom. Dave heard a cat meowing. “Well, sure, we’ve got cats,” I said. He explained that it was coming from outside, and that it was loud and consistent. Still in my PJs, I headed outside to inspect further. After walking down off of our porch, I heard the nearby, high-pitched meow, turning around to see her (we thought) mulling about around the back of our house.

And Jasper Makes Three - image on https://megactsout.com

I knew immediately that she couldn’t be a stray – or, at least, not a feral stray. She was way too affectionate, walking up to me and rubbing on my legs immediately. In retrospect, I suppose it could have been that I smelled like two male cats and she was in heat…but it wasn’t “that type” of affection she was showing.

Eventually, Dave joined us outside, and we watched her wander up our porch stairs, back down and around the front of the house, casually enjoying the gorgeous day. The boys jumped onto their perch to further inspect, and Winston immediately fell in love. Exactly the way Davy Jones used to, with stars and everything. Or he wanted to eat the intruder. Either way, he was majorly interested. Beardslee seemed wary at first, but shortly seemed to be tilting his head in a sweet curious way.

We discussed what to do. We may be softies, but we take issue with cats who are a) possibly not fixed and b) allowed to roam free. Studies show that they have much shorter life spans…and, honestly, we take it HARD when we see a flattened cat on the side of the road. Like, let’s take the day off to mourn sort of hard. (Not that we do.) So, we decided to call the humane society when they opened — at noon, unfortunately (there went the lovely morning we had planned). It turned out that they couldn’t take anymore cats publicly, but if we were to call animal control, they would be legally obligated to take her. My heart strings were tugging. She was so very sweet and beautiful, and there seemed to be a strange sign that she found us on my birthday, but I wanted any possible owners the opportunity to pick her up.

So, we made the very difficult decision to call animal control. Dave put the call in, and my heart slowly started to break. When they came and the little one fought not to go in the cage, the last piece of my heart broke. I quickly thrust her into the holder and briskly turned away, sobbing.

Two months later, and we had visited a few times…and, of course, no other owner had. We had named her “Abigail” (after Abigail Adams – if you haven’t seen “John Adams”, you MUST!), but the humane society quickly renamed her…Albert. Yep, apparently Albert had been fixed, and we saw zero evidence of his manhood. Oops. In my defense, Winston and Beardslee are the only male animals I’ve ever owned, so because they still have *ahem* “evidence” of what was “once there”, I was misinformed. Let’s blame our little well-endowed boys on this one. 😉

After hours of conversation and days of saying “We’ll talk more later”, I couldn’t wait any longer. We called and set up a pick-up (that afternoon!) and Dave called for a vet appointment for the next day. So, he got picked up by Mama – which isn’t how Dave and I usually do things, but time was of the essence.

The next day, before bringing him to his appointment, Dave and I went through lists of English names that might go with our currently-Anglo boys. Sure, Winston is mostly “Wee Wee” (unless he’s in trouble…which is A LOT of the time) and Beardslee is oftentimes “Boo”, but Albert didn’t fit this lil’ guy’s cute face, huge blue-yellow (yes, blue-yellow) eyes, and slight feistiness. It was between Jasper and another one that we can’t seem to remember, so we decided to call Dave’s mom for the final say (I voted Jasper, Dave voted the one that even HE can’t remember now, ha). We sent her a picture and put in the call – Jasper it is! (I did a little victory dance.) It made sense, since the vowel sounds in “Albert” are similar to those in “Jasper”, so it wouldn’t be a difficult transition (to have a name with his prior owners, then the HS, then with us). Plus, I had been watching my old “Avonlea” DVDs and the name was on my mind – anyone know who I’m talking about? A thousand points to you, if so!

After getting his shots and check-over, Jasper was sequestered in our guest room for the drugs to take effect and for any parasites/fleas (luckily, there weren’t any!) to fall off…and to acclimate him with his brothers a little at a time.

It’s been a couple of weeks already, and the transition has been a lot smoother than when Winston came to live. We’ve noticed similarities that Jasper shares with Winston (such as his body language and energy; Beardslee’s a sleeper and lover, not a prowler and fighter) as well as with Beardslee (FOOOOOOOOD!!!! Although all 3 boys are officially on diets. Oh, and a whork thing – I’m thinking Jasper’s is because his crappy coat needs to come out…and he’s eating lots of it). While there’s no real fighting or hissing going on (like on Day #1), the strange thing is that Winston bats at Jasper (and he doesn’t fight back) and Jasper tends to bat a bit at Beardslee (who doesn’t fight back). I’d say that the dynamic will be different in a month…and even more different in 6 months.

So, we’re officially outnumbered, and I’ve promised to my mother that “this is it.” Seriously, the next addition should be a child…but not anytime soon. 😉

There were so many possible titles for this post that I seriously considered this one (of course, only because it was in my head when we picked Jasper up – and I borrowed this CD from my best friend in high school and listened the crap out of it…seriously, a song named “I Like Chinese”? And, yes, I know the song is annoying.):

“Waiter? There is too much pepper on my paprikash.”

Saturday was just one of those days. We hit up the Cooperstown Farmers’ Market and walked around the town while there, sharing some great conversation and the winter chill that was starting to show signs of thawing. Before heading home, we diverted our attention to a Lowe’s trip – which turned out to take more time than expected, all the projects we’ve got bubbling in our heads dying to finally get performed. I ended up with a good handful of ideas to share with you folks here, which is always a good feeling.

Dave mentioned to me that one of his co-workers had commented (in a good way!) about my food posts, so as a shout-out to her, I decided to share what I made for dinner. Hope it’s as appealing to y’all as it was to eat!

We had some all-natural (not organic, sigh) chicken from Hannaford and a pound of parsnips to use up, so after perusing my stand-by cookbooks, I decided to make chicken paprikash and roasted parsnips. This is sort of an ode to one of our favorite movies/running jokes – Billy Crystal, anyone? 😀

I got down to prepping the parsnips. All they really need is a peeling, rinsing, and chopping into 3-inch pieces. (A horizontal peeler is PERFECT for this. Way easier than a vertical one. Highly suggested.) If you’ve never tried them, DO! They’re sweet and a little zingy (like a carrot with fizz…?), and even while I smell them raw, I think to myself, “This should be made into a soda flavor.” Ew, I know, but still…I’d try it!

Oh, yes. Beardslee decided to provide moral support from a nearby barstool. I’ve never known him to jump up here (and nap?!), so I’m chalking it up to Winston influence. Either way, thanks for the help, bud.

I threw in half a thinly-sliced onion and a couple of chopped garlic cloves for some additional flavor. You could do an entire onion, but I wasn’t sure how it’d come out. As it was, the onion got VERY crispy, but deliciously sweet.

Then, a sprinkling of dried oregano, sea salt and pepper, along with a drizzling of 2 tbsp. olive oil – and, as Ina Garten would say, “Clean hands” to mix it up.

By the way, the way to keep a man – and ensure peace in the house? Buy this stuff. For whatever reason, Dave’s a pepper guy, and after we bought this pepper mill (which grinds 4, count ’em 4 different types of peppercorns), he’d beg to buy it again when we were out. It ain’t necessarily cheap, but if it’ll keep him happy, I’m game! And, I’ll give him that – it is pretty tasty.

This is the cookbook that I used for guidance as far as the roasted turnips were concerned. The paprikash (again, more for guidance than exact recipe) was from my FAVORITE, Food to Live By. It’s where my go-to chili recipe came from, among others. I foresee cooking the paprikash time and time again, too.

Speaking of paprikash, let’s get started! A couple of tablespoons of butter; ditto on the olive oil – medium heat.

…while the parsnips roast at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes (depends on how you like them done).

And, for those of you who don’t know what paprikash is (I didn’t when I started this fiasco), it’s a Hungarian dish that generally uses sweet and hot Hungarian paprika. Of course, I just had the generic stuff sitting around the house, so I was concerned about flavor. I shouldn’t have been. Here, I’ve seasoned it with a generous dose of paprika, a sprinkling of oregano, and salt ‘n pepper.

I put it in skin-down so that I could season the other side properly.

And, now, while the chicken cooks… Oh, hello, gorgeous onion. I see you brought along your close friends, garlic cloves. I hope you don’t mind my dicing you…

Mwahaha…the brutality of it. Oh, and these were much smaller in “real life” – Dave’s not a fan of cooked onion, so I dice/mince it so that it practically melts in. He was none the wiser. 😉

Now, I’ll admit that it SEEMS the chicken got too dark. But, actually, it didn’t make a darn bit of difference. I cooked both sides for a good 5 minutes, then added more cooking time (at a lower heat) at the end, practically braising them. The actual recipe called for cutting chicken pieces up in thin strips, so I had to ad lib.

Check-in on the parsnips. Still looking pretty pasty, like me. Soon enough.

Back to the chicken. After both sides have browned sufficiently, pull those suckers out…

…and throw in the onion. Cook until translucent, 3-5 minutes.

Then, add 2 tbsp. tomato paste and the garlic, stirring constantly while it cooks together, about a minute.

Here’s what it’ll look like…

Then, add 2 cups of chicken stock. We use free-range organic, FYI. Let it bubble away for another 5 or so minutes…

…before adding the chicken back in and cooking a few more minutes. (In case I hadn’t mentioned it, we used 4 thighs. It makes enough sauce to use 4 thighs and 4 breasts, but I didn’t have so much on hand. Would’ve fed an army! Instead, I’ve saved the sauce to be used with chicken breasts at a later date.)

While that simmers, mix together one cup of sour cream with 2 tbsp. flour. Mine looks funny because it’s whole-wheat. The sauce probably would’ve looked even prettier if I’d used AP bleached, but…don’t get me started. 😉

Oh! Parsnips are ready! Finally, a nice summer tan. I truly hope those rumors about the “char” on grilled (and, quite possibly, deliciously roasted) items being carcinogenic is false. I don’t tan or smoke, and my favorite way to eat veggies is roasted. Don’t take that away from me!!

Oh. The boys are hungry. Here’s Boo reminding me that HE needs deliciousness, too.

And a further segue… We’ve been giving them two meals of “mushy food” (they eat their crunchies during the day if they get hungry, but not much) since we had some health problems from BOTH boys. After trying several brands, we landed on one that doesn’t have any bi-products OR meal of any sort. Beardslee gets a little of the food with equal parts pumpkin (yes…it’s organic…) while Win just gets food. Their meal gets mashed together sufficiently, microwaved, and mixed with some water. See, the boys aren’t good drinkers when it’s cold out, for whatever reason…so, this helps amend that issue.

So, now that you’ve sufficiently been turned off by the sight of cat food, here I am adding the sour cream mixture. The sauce needs to be on low heat completely or else the sour cream will separate.

I cooked it on low heat for several more minutes, until I knew the chicken was completely cooked. At the end, I threw some parsley on top. Can’t wait to have fresh herbs again!

Here’s the final product, along with some brown rice to sop up the delicious juices, and a side of yummy parsnips.

It was sure to be such a nice meal, we decided to open up some white wine…of which Winston approved.

Wearflee and Binston

I don’t hate you…if you just keep sleeping and don’t attack me.

I think it’s about time to give an update on our kitty situation, since we’ve officially been over a month that we became a two-cat household. While it’s definitely been an adjustment for all four of us, we’ve come a long way! There was a point when we didn’t feel right leaving the house for fear that they’d kill each other, eat the fish, or do something else as equally naughty. But, hey, guess what. We can leave now! Obviously, or else we wouldn’t be doing our latest show at the theater. 🙂

Winston has brought good and bad into the house. We love him like a son (that son who acts out a lot…you know the one), so we’re allowed to talk about his flaws as much as we can brag about what makes him great. The first bummer is the fact that his stomach seems to be constantly “off.” Yuck. Arm-in-arm with this is the fact that he has HORRIBLE aim in his litter pan. Double yuck. We get it on walls, the floor, and almost always smeared along the edge of the pan (and regularly on his feet, tail, etc). Gee, I hope, dear reader, you’re not eating. Sorry if you are!

I’m Winfton. Ftringf are my favorite.

I vowed to myself I wouldn’t do it, but I may try to get him to eat a different cat food. His stool has been tested twice, count it, twice, but nothing seems wrong. He’s had an upper-respiratory infection so we’ve got him on medication that’s supposed to take care of that, but also, as the vet says, his potty problem…to no avail. But, since both of the boys enjoy harassing each other by eating out of each other’s dish, I’d have to feed him when I’m home (and probably give him a little each day). Why can’t they each eat the same new food? Beardslee’s allergic to fish, and almost all the other food we’ve found has fish meal in it. Yeah. High maintenance much?

Winston, as a personality and physical presence, is wily and sly, childish and funny, sleek and sharp. Figuratively and literally. Since he’s so lanky and thin, it seems that it applies to almost everything about him — teeth and claws included. And that makes for painful pill sessions. Those claws have left a few very obnoxious, deep but thin scratches. Can’t blame him much for fighting back, though.

Otay, buddy. I’ll ftand guard. You fleep.
Mmm, birdf.

During the first couple of weeks, Winston’s looks scared me a bit. He’s a dark gray with a frosting of light gray depending on how the light hits him. A bit of a Halloween cat. I’m quite sure I colored a picture that looked a lot like him when I was a child. Throw in his yellowish green eyes, long fangs and propensity to quietly move and sneak up on you and you can see why he was a little frightening. Those fangs, however, helped us to consider him differently. Depending on whether he has control over those two little sharpies, you’ll occasionally see them peeping out from below his upper lip. One day, it occurred to me that the voice we’d been using to portray his thoughts (yeah, we do put a voice to our cats — their interactions seem to call out for dialogue sometimes) was all wrong. While his voice is lower than Beardslee’s, he’s so young-acting that it just didn’t seem right. But, throw a speech impediment in there and you’re cooking with gas — “Mama. Bearflee if eatin’ in my dif.” A lot like a Kids in the Hall character, we think. Or, perhaps, a bit like that damn Gilly from SNL. Only adorable!

I think the best way to show a day in the life of Winston, in his new home, and Beardslee, adjusting to his new brother, is a comparison. They certainly are brothers — if those two brothers are pretty much polar opposites. Their only similarities lie in cat behavior and instinct — generally sleeping, eating, and play fighting.

We weren’t fightin’ a minute ago. It’s baftime!

Beardslee’s a roly poly boy, round in every sense of the word (his head, his belly, his paws, his eyes) while Winston is sleek and long and, at times, elegant — like an Egyptian cat. Beardslee’s bad at being a cat, thanks to his hardships — he’s got nearly zero balance ability and sucks at climbing or running; Winston’s the perfect cat, even when it means he climbs too high or gets in trouble for knocking things (thank goodness, not the fish!) over. Boo acts old, even though he’s maaaaayyyybe 6 months older than Wee-Wee — he sleeps at least twice as long everyday, is slow-moving and often looks at us as if to say he’s tired of playing with his brother, take him away now. At the same time, Winston seems younger than the age we were told at the humane society — very kitten-like and playful to a fault, and adores climbing into our bed to poke and prod and play with our faces, hardly ever sleeping — always alert and almost scared of what’s happening in his invisible world. Their physical appearances (round and orange, bony thin and gray) mirror how dissimilar they are in actions. Probably why giving them a red and blue collar (and Martin toys…we name toys, too, yes…if they’re going to be such a HUGE part of our daily lives, strewn all over the house, they get personalities, too!) seemed appropriate.

Look, I handfome and purdy.

And, yet, they’re friends. Friends who fight. A lot. But who, at the end of the day, can lay close and sleep peacefully or eat right next to each other or give one another a bath. Winston has drawn some of the kitten out of Beardslee, who tries to keep up and can hold his own in a fight — heck, Beardslee generally starts them, even though Winston runs circles around him. And, yet, Boo hasn’t lost an ounce of weight from trrrrryyyyyyiiiing to chase Win up the stairs. He’s definitely more active, but I think the fight for food may have created a hoarder. Beardslee, at times, seems to be telling Winston the rules…or, perhaps leading him astray. Many a time do we find Win committing an infraction, looking guilty, with Beardslee sitting regally nearby, watching in satisfaction. Oh, brothers.

So, these are our boys. They’ve gotten quite used to each other, and we try to be fair to show the same amount of affection to both. It may sound silly, but Boo does look terribly dejected sometimes when Winston is receiving hugs and kisses. And when we relish the old face rubs Beardslee so rarely bestows upon us now, Wee seems to be saying “Wait…what? What about me?” We’re definitely getting ready for parenthood, thanks to these little rascals!

And, time for some gratuitous cat pictures.

Where’s MY blog?

We fight, but here are no losers.

Not sure what he’s hugging in his sleep…

Aaaaaand…publish.

Surprise! No, this isn’t Winston.
We’re thinking it’s a sibling or parent, but she’s been
residing in our garage. Too skiddish to catch. But, at least she’s got a
place to stop and grab a bite or warm shelter during the winter.
(And, no, I don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.)

Orange: The Occupational Hazard of Housewifery on a Saturday

And Jasper Makes Three - image Mr_&_Mrs_Squash on https://megactsout.com

Mr. and Mrs. Squash.
I think I decapitated Mrs. Squash today.

We’ve had another surreal, wonderful Saturday around the ol’ crooked house yet again. While the poor hubs and Winston are both fighting off a nasty suntin’ suntin’, Beardslee and I have gone about trying to make them well again. Or, Beardslee has manfully rested — I’m sure he’s saving up his energy to do something truly heroic. He’ll probably display it around bedtime.

So, poor, hacky, drippy Dave had to leave the warm comfort of our bed this morning amid yet another tundra morning to help me schlep both cats to the vet’s. Boo had a follow-up visit and they kindly fit Winston in for his case o’ the cruds. Hopefully the shot and oh-so-fun-to-choke-down-his-throat medication that Winston received will stop things from flying out of both major orifices.

After a quick donut stop (yes, you heard that right — I think Dave had a craving…and who am I to deny a pathetic sick husband?), we headed home to brew a pot of organic coffee with which to enjoy a couple (and that makes it alright, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know it doesn’t).

Realizing that I have yet to get the disgusting ailment that has been making the rounds in our schools and places of work, I became grateful and thought of what to do for the #1 man in my life. The answer was obvious…homemade chicken soup.

After quick-thawing a free-range chicken I’d frozen for juuuuust such an occasion, and chopping up some almost-seen-better-days veggies, it was finally on the stove, simmering away. All of the veggies and their organic or FM origins made me feel slightly better about the donut I’d scarfed hours earlier. I used up the rest of the carrots, onion, a parsnip, and some organic celery from the fridge (and will throw in some leftover half-used bags of organic veggies from the freezer when finishing it off). While surveying what else would be going bad shortly, I noticed some butternut squash (already showing signs of ick — and not the fish disease) and a couple of sweet potatoes in need of usage.

Man, this thing’s starting to turn into a Donna Thompson article. Apologies. I’ll try to pep it up.

Wanting to utilize some of my green cookbooks, I found a simple sweet potato soup recipe (which could easily be frozen or taken for lunch throughout the week) which called for a method of cooking which involves using the stove as little as possible, “lid cooking” the potatoes after bringing them to a boil. So, I diced them up, along with the last parsnip, threw in our all-natural vegetable broth (who knew I’d love Wolfgang Puck so much?), some garlic, S&P, and a dash of ground ginger, just for the hell of it. Er, heck, depending on who’s reading this. 😉 I went slightly askew from the recipe, but I still kept the eco-friendliness intact by not peeling the taters and using the “duh, why didn’t I think of that” cooking technique.

After having diced the potatoes, I went after the butternut squash to freeze which, if you’ve ever disassembled, you know it’s a real…yeah, it kinda sucks and makes you wonder why you bought the thing in the first place. Upon taking the halved, peeled squash to the garbage can to scoop the seeds out, I realized how orange my hands had become — as well as my sock, from holding the lid of the can up (not sure why I did it that way, there IS a foot pedal) and the wall behind the can. Oye. I love the color orange and all, and particularly what it means when it’s in food (beta-bet-bet-bet-betaaaa carotene! Wow. I hang around with too many cheerleaders), but this made me want to sit down and have a beer.

So, rather than taking that route (definitely not a beer day — more like a hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps or hot cider with rum sort of a day — can I get a wuh wuh? Again. Too many high schoolers in my life.), I sat down and wrote this little ditty for y’all. I’m patiently awaiting the moment of dis-assemblage of the chicken and re-assemblage of what we like to call “mmm…sooooup.” Even more patiently waiting is Sick Dave…and, particularly, Winston, who dreams of people food. You can see it on his crazy face. His fazy.

Hope your Saturday’s just as nice, if not as orange. Looks to be a classic movie night here once again, for which I’m uber excited. Soup ‘n cinema. Sweet.

Our New Family Member

Will it be love at first sight…
…or fight? (And these aren’t our guys in this pic, BTW)

…and, no, we’re not pregnant. (After surviving a rough stomach bug, I’m glad to say that’s NOT why I’ve been throwing up! Heard that question enough, thankyouverymuch. ;-)) We’re picking up our new cat, Winston, from the Herkimer County Humane Society this afternoon! We would have announced it much more publicly, but a) we still had some family to inform about it and, even though it may not be a big deal to everyone, we felt they should be the “first to know” and b) we’re a little nervous about it.

Why would we be nervous? Well, our “already cat” Beardslee (aka Miracle Cat, Wonder Cat, Boo, Buddy, B-B, Boozers, and any other cutesy nickname you could possibly fathom) wasn’t even on our radar when we got him. We weren’t cat people. But, now that we’ve had him since May, we’ve found our lives completely altered — in a good way, mostly. He’s kind of our life. May sound sappy, may sound pathetic, but I’m not sure what we’d do without him. He’s taught us how to love each other better, to be parents. The fact that he overcame his major illnesses (he still has chronic issues, but nothing like what he had) has taught us resilience and perseverance. He’s an incredible cat.

But, so is Winston. We wouldn’t have chosen him otherwise. Our dear friends, B+B (well, mostly B) suggested that we go meet a cat that she’d fallen in love with at the humane society. Strangely enough, Dave and I had been on their Petfinder site “shopping” for a possible playmate (and life to make a little happier) for Boo, and the second she said the name “Winston”, I squealed and our eyes lit up. We had seen the little gray short-hair (due to allergies, he would HAVE to be a short-hair) on the website. I got an instant crush on the little guy — first, he was gray (which reminded me of my early childhood cat) and, secondly, his name seemed to fit perfectly with our Beardslee.

C’mon. You see it, don’t you? Beardslee. Winston. British, right? Bordering on butlers? (Only, as we all know, Dave and I are the ones doing the butlering.) We love how classic they sound. Some day, we’ll have a Roosevelt in there some place, too. (I know, not British, but seems to fit. And, no, we’re not planning on getting anymore animals for a long time — maybe not until we have a farm! *sigh* It’s okay to dream.)

So, the next day after visiting with B+B, we found ourselves meeting him. Of course, he’s a sweet guy. When I held him, I noticed that he was so light compared to Beardslee! Very lovable. He took to me immediately, and seems to just need some attention to make him happy. We’re not sure if he’s ever been a house cat (he was picked up as a stray on Main Street in Herkimer), but there’s a cat that looks almost exactly like him who’s taken up residence in our garage, but who’s incredibly skiddish (as if he’s never been near humans). Winston, however, was just. So. Darn. Friendly! I may just have the cuddly lap cat I’ve-always-wanted-but-never-knew-I-wanted.

Sounds great, right? This is where the nerves and worrying came in. Win’s been around lots of other cats – cats with lots of sneezing and coughing and fleas and other disgusting stuff. Would he bring in a respiratory illness? Beardslee’s HIGHLY susceptible to getting sick again. *sweat drops*

Then, there’s the socialization fear, the biggest fear. Will they get along? They’re both male. They’re both fixed. (So, there are two issues knocked out instantly. Girl + boy would not be good.) They’re around the same age — give or take 6 months. Beardslee’s bigger. I know Winston will gain weight (how could he NOT?! I’m a FABulous cook! ;-)), but the size thing will help the issue of dominance to be decided nearly immediately. Plus, Beardslee’s used to HIS space, HIS people, and only the occasional chat out the window with his neighborhood buddies. Luckily, Winston is great with other cats. Oooohhhh I just don’t know how it’ll go!

They’ll each have their own issues acclimating to life at the McCoy-Dellecese homestead. Luckily, I have this week off for the holidays, so I get to play Mommy/psychiatrist/doctor/nurse/housekeeper/chef to both guys. Spoiled. It’s a good thing since I’m kind of the practical parent, in the sense that I don’t get nervous or anxious about administering medicines, clipping nails, etc. If they get upset or have a fight, I’ll be less likely to get upset – and jump to the conclusion that “it just won’t work.” And, thanks to B+B (and their own vast experience acclimating kitties), we’ve got some great advice and tricks to help the process run smoothly. Love them!

So, how are we going to do it? Well, Winston will have his own room. He’s got an appointment with our vet immediately after we pick him up, so just in case he DOES have a respiratory issue, at least he’ll be relatively confined for medication (and for proper flea removal and cleaning). I’ve cozied our spare bedroom for him, along with some fresh toys, food/water, a brand new potty (he has his own carrier, too, which will have pheromones to calm him — can you believe they make stuff like that?!). A tip that B gave us was to feed both of them on opposite sides of the door so that the positivity of eating will mix with the smell of each other (on each side of the door). I’m also going to rub a cloth on either guy and put it near them while they sleep or just have them smell it to get used to it. Oh, and LOTS of playtime with each boy will be a must. Mind you, this is even if Winston will want to come out of his carrier. 🙂

Their first meeting will be on their terms. If Beardslee wants to meet Winston, okay. If he ignores the “weird sounds and smells coming from the guest room”, then fine. But, we know Beardslee. He was curious about what I was doing to the point of sitting in the empty cat pan, watching me curiously. He’s known something’s been up for weeks – we talk to him about it and, strangely, he seems to understand. At the same time, he’s had a bout of depression lately (have you ever seen a sad cat? Seriously. Slanty, almost-closed eyes. Head drooped. So pathetic and sad.), so I’m hoping that a new friend gets him out of it — eventually.

Oh, and for the record — Winston got a blue collar. We thought it went well with Beardslee’s red one. Priorities, y’know. Besides collars, we’ve got so much love to give, we just had to give this a shot. Aside from the nerves, I’m truly excited and happy to welcome a new buddy into the house. I’ll be posting an update and pictures this week!

Have you had experience with multiple cats? Any kind advice? Do tell!