Night of the Surprising Calm

Echo’s first night in the Cosy Apartment was as successful as it could have been; certainly better than I had anticipated.

She can be noisy but usually only when she is hungry. Then, I wonder if I should have called her ‘Bruce Banner’ because she can sound as if she’s turned into the Hulk. But through the night, she cried only when she knew I had woken up and was moving about, and when I returned to bed, she fell silent again. In the morning, however, she must have sensed that it was breakfast-time, as she began her heavy demands. I live in a corner suite, with only one lateral neighbour. The woman who lives upstairs was not bothered by any sounds from the new cat. I have not yet checked to learn whether my next door neighbour was similarly untroubled.

Echo is a very affectionate and happy cat. She purred constantly while I was with her, and loved being physically close to me. My morning preparations are quite the ordeal with a kitten who wants to be part of them. And having a shower last night was unlike any other experience. Echo continually screamed and wanted to come in with me. At one point, she slipped into the tub and was sprayed with water, but it didn’t deter her. I will have to arrange for her to spend a few minutes in another room when I have showers from now on.

I really had no idea how delicate a kitten felt under the hand. Echo’s bones could be made of thin cardboard. It’s like having a toy version of Cammie. I must be very gentle with this new guest - as I should be - but I feel as though the slightest accident will damage her. I am hardly brutal with the perma-cats, but picking Renn up and dropping him on the bed four feet away is hardly of consequence; he trots back purring. Yet I see Echo leap from the bathroom counter to the floor - a distance five times her length - and slip when jumping onto the top of her litter-box, yet bounce back as if she were an india-rubber ball.

(Echo used the litter-box last night, for both numbers one and two. There is no problem in that department.)

I have no decent pictures of the baby to publish; I took fifty-six photographs of her and the three that were not of an orange blur I used in yesterday’s article. Instead, I’ll show you this interpretation of Echo when she is hungry.