Today sees the addition of another family member. No, we don't have children. Up until this morning, our only dependant was an 8-year old, 15-pound (give or take a pound or two) Mackerel Tabby cat, known far and wide as Junior the Fierce Ferocious and Mighty Tennessee Walking Tiger, Master of His Domain and All He Surveys. Well, this morning he got a little brother. The new guy's name is officially Smokey, and he's (by all appearances) an Orange Tabby with maybe a bit of an Albino tendency. He's almost as affectionate as Junior–maybe more so–and he's right now sacked out in our Master bathroom while he acclimates to the surroundings–and the other feline critter.
Smokey came to be with us the way many animals find humans to care for them. He showed up on our back doorstep a few months ago. My wife feels that all of God's critters need to be fed, so she gave him some food and water. He returned for a few days, then vanished. We see that from time to time–out in the woods, various fates befall small animals. Some get adopted, some get found and reunited with their families, some become victims of the various predatory creatures that also inhabit the woods. While we always hope for the best, we always have to expect the worst, too. So, when he showed up again a couple of weeks ago, she started to feed him again. By his behaviour, it was apparent that he was used to being around people. He was quite affectionate, and he had a certain degree of separation anxiety whenever my wife tried to come back inside. At that time, he gained the nickname "Transient Bonus Cat".
As the days passed, it became apparent that this little kitty had no human staff members to cater to his every whim (and you non-cat people will never understand–dogs have masters, cats have staff–it is just the way it is) and we began talking about letting him adpot us–silly, I know, since the "adoption" was a fait accompli as far as the cat was concerned. He'd show up at the same time every day, and he knew he'd get fed and watered, and perhaps could spend a few minutes with either me or my wife while we patted his back or scratched his ears. We talked about the fact that the Master of the House was El Hombre Macho Solo and had run of the place for eight years, but we felt that he'd adjust.
So, this morning the new guy had a ride in the car and got to meet out vet–a gruff man who certainly loves his critters. With that, the cat formerly known as Transient Bonus Cat got a clean bill of health, his shots, some instructions to care for a scratched eye he got in a fight with another critter, and an appointment a month from now for his second round of feline leukemia vaccines and his de-milling (he's got quite a set on him–almost as large as Junior's were before we had him disarmed). In the meantime, we're going to try and integrate the two critters and give them both run of the house. I believe that Junior's green eyes will go away after a while. They may keep their distance from each other, but sooner or later I'd like to think they'll become buddies (and in the cat-to-English translation that equates to "partners in crime")…
So, when the production line at the workbench slows down even more than it has, you'll know why.
Thanks for reading. Have a safe and Happy Independence Day this coming Monday. Be good to one another, and I bid you Peace.