The Rolling River Shore

Auric was delivered to his new home yesterday. I have heard nothing yet of his reaction, though anything he does will not be typical of his response to his new environment anyway, at this stage. I don’t imagine that he will have difficulty adjusting.

In the meantime, though, there have been adjustments in the Cosy Apartment. Whenever a cat leaves me, whether through death or adoption, the routine seems easier, simpler. That makes sense, with fewer cats, but some will have required more attention than others, if they are sick or, in Auric’s case, young and forever curious. With him, I was always thinking, ‘Where is he? What’s he doing? What’s he into?’ If things were quiet, I would go and investigate.

But there is also an effect on the cats, as well. Specifically, there appears to be a change in Minuet. She appears to sense that the most intrusive feline is gone. Auric was going into the library repeatedly over the last week. On the one hand, Minuet must grow more used to her roommates; on the other, Auric could be quite forward in his acquaintance, not taking into account others’ requirements or desires.

I decided, upon Auric’s departure, to leave the library door open at night. Last night was the first trial of that new policy (literally, an ‘open-door’ policy) and, except for one mild screech when, I think, Min encountered Neville while exploring, all was quiet. But today, she was out of the library frequently. The remaining boys are much less likely to instigate meetings; Madame appreciates this. Her protests at seeing another cat are less vociferous. Hector hurriedly backed away when Min warned him from her proximity in the morning, but, later, she was content to allow him to remain in her presence, a few harsh barks sufficing to register her complaint. I think this may be the beginning of a relationship similar to that which Cammie had with the others: a grumbling co-existence, reinforced by periodic screams of indignation.

We at the Cosy Apartment can live with that.