The perma-cats are slowly growing used to Noah, though ‘slowly’ is the significant word. Each has his or her own reaction to the boy, and none is overly friendly.
Tucker is determined to show him that he, Tucker, will not be on the bottom of the totem pole ever again, and so periodically attacks Noah. The roly poly one knows very well that I do not like such bullying and runs to hide when I break up the fight. But no one has been hurt, and I think it may be something that I won’t be able entirely to prevent - and I can never stay angry at Tucker, anyway. And there are even moments when peace reigns.
Renn, on the other hand, growls whenever he sees Noah. The latter has jumped on the big boy several times; despite his size, Renn is not a fighter. Noah may be thinking that if he has to give first place among mancats to Tucker, he’ll make sure he’s at least in second. Renn will refuse to budge if it means crossing Noah’s path, even though he could crush the foster-cat easily enough if he tried. But that isn’t Renn’s way.
Josie doesn’t care for Noah, either, but Noah will simply play with my Chubs - however much the latter wants nothing to do with the boy. Noah will run at Josie, then stop and trot away. Josie will squeal her old lady complaints, which are as frightening as a lung-fish on helium. Really, if one can barely hear a growl, one isn’t going to take it seriously.
Cammie has been ambushed by Noah once or twice, and my princess holds a grudge, so I don’t expect friendship to blossom any time soon. But Cammie stays out of Noah’s reach, and I am not worried about the two of them.
Noah’s high spirits are to blame for much of this. He is not a bad cat, certainly, nor a ferocious one. He is not much of a fighter himself, but likes the rough-and-tumble of fast play. All of my cats are now ten years old (except for Renn who is approaching that milestone) or more, and their idea of playing is to lie in one place and attempt to catch a string-toy as it swings by. They are as thrilled with Noah as the occupants of a retirement home who’ve just been invited to a Metallica concert. The boy would be perfect for a young family, a single person with energy or, especially, someone who already has a young and rambunctious cat. Noah doesn’t get enough time from me, regrettably, and would benefit from more.
But even so, now and then, I see how things might be, given time. Noah may get used to the old fogeys he’s rooming with. He will probably never stop provoking them to play, but he grow accustomed to them telling him to shut up and settle down, the young whipper-snapper.