Four Days On

Coda remains hidden when I come into the back parlour. But he is eating and using the litter-box, and I have caught him on the cat-trees at the windows. More than that, I believe he is playing with the toys I have left him: I have heard some running about after the lights go out.

Darkness seems to bring him more confidence. Indeed, he wants out of his room, though I suspect that is a desire to escape his confines all together, rather than to participate in the Cosy Cabin’s social life. He makes his intentions clear by meowing and pawing the closed door of the back parlour, usually starting at 2.30 in the morning, and continuing until I get up a couple of hours later. I spend time with him each day - or, rather, I spend time in the room with him. I hope that as he becomes used to my presence, he will let that deter him less and less from showing himself.

For now, he stays in quarantine, not only to accustom him to his new world, but also to ensure that he has no illnesses that he can communicate to the others. I think he can be socialised; he is, after all, just a five month old kitten. Once his quarantine is complete, and I am assured that I can get him back into his room after he leaves it, I will introduce him to the other beasts, staring with the Tempos. I believe he will find them congenial playmates.