Tabby in the red “hut”
Three weeks ago today Tabby came into our lives. Nothing’s been the same since. Life with Tabby continues to be a series of adjustments. Mostly in regards to our time. Here’s what I mean:
Mealtime
The first week I kept Tabby shut away in a spare room. She had her bowl for food and another for water, and I’d make my rounds in the mornings and afternoons to feed her, Murph, and Mr. Meow.
But we let her out during week two to roam the house freely. She quickly found Mr. Meow’s bowl. He used to always leave a few kibbles behind, eating what he wanted and coming back for the rest later. Now his bowl’s always empty. Guess who cleans it up for him?
Mornings are now a stampede (no joke!) down the stairs in a race to see who can get to the food bowl first. Dinnertime is about the same. Tabby even tries to hone in on Murph’s action, even though his nuggets are way too big for her. Wayne’s nickname of Snak Pak hits the mark in her case!
Pottytime
Tabby has her own litter box, but she also uses Mr. Meow’s on occasion. He doesn’t seem to mind … except when she decides to harass him. A few times she’s decided to camp out smack in front of it. Mr. Meow won’t cross her, but I did notice him acting weird one day. (Pacing and mewing like crazy. After the snake incident, I’ve learned to pay heed to behavior abnormalities.) So I got up and found her sprawled out in front of it not budging. I moved her and poor Mr. Meow made a mad dash for his box.
And our (Wayne and I) pottytimes have also been compromised. Gone are the days of privacy. Ms. Nosy has to accompany us. There’s no peace with closed doors either. She mews and scratches and claws at the crack desperate to get to us. Ugh!
Playtime
Kitty, Murphy, and I had a ritual: play for a bit after we say goodbye to Wayne in the mornings, then again in the evenings after Murph’s 5 o’clock walk.
Mr. Meow used to hide in his hut, and then jump out at either me or Murph as I play-chased Murph to steal whatever toy he had. But Tabby has claimed the red hut as her own and won’t share. Mr. Meow still wants to play, but he hasn’t quite staked out a new place to spring from yet. (Worse, even when he tries, Tabby then attacks him!)
Tabby fixing to spring on Mr. Meow and kick him out of her red hut
And let’s not talk about nighttime … she wakes us up chasing after the mice, jingle bell balls, and poor Mr. Meow. The learning to play together (and when) might be an ongoing struggle for a while yet…
Bedtime
When she’s not playing and keeping us awake, Tabby’s either perched atop my chest, pinning Wayne’s legs in, snuggled against Murph, or guarding the top of the stairs to attack Mr. Meow if he dares to try and come join us.
It’s a process adjusting to life with another cat. But we’re all trying, and I have to give my guys credit for that. They haven’t groused too much about the upheaval in routines, and they continue to try and make the best of the situation.