The holidays are proceeding well. It’s astonishing how
much time one has when one isn’t forced to work. Well, I must qualify that: I
am working, but at chores at home, on my own time, and not getting paid for
them. And yet, they are more satisfying than work, even though they are work. I
don’t know if that’s paradox or irony, but it’s truth, regardless.
The cats are coping adequately with my constant presence.
Noah the foster-cat is out amongst the perma-cats quite often. Tucker,
surprisingly, is tolerating him the best, at least superficially. There have
been instances of urination downstairs, which I blame on Tucker, but so far,
they have been few. He allows Noah to come within a couple of feet of him
without reacting adversely. Renn dislikes the new boy even from a distance,
which I would not have expected. Josie doesn’t mind Noah as long as he is out
of reach, and Cammie loathes him. Noah ambushed the princess when she was
downstairs, and that hasn’t endeared him to her. She is the one about whom I am
most worried in regard to stress. But just today, I lie down on the bed to
allow her some time on my chest. She lie there purring for about twenty
minutes, getting up on the bed initially even though Renn was already there,
and even staying for a few minutes when my Chubs joined us. Perhaps Cammie now
thinks her old roommates aren’t so bad, compared with the new.
I think the problem may be that Noah thinks of everything
as a game. I am not convinced that he was merely playing with Cammie when he
attacked her; I put him in the parlour now and then to give the others a
break from him, and he goes downstairs in the spare room at night.
But Noah does love to play. He looks full grown, but he’s
a kitten inside. Everything is a toy to him, whether it is a tag, a string, a
set of keys, a toe, a finger. Sometimes, he will even play with toys.
Here he is having subdued a fuzzy mouse (between his
He knocked this ball down the stairs and all I heard for
half an hour was the sound of it rolling about the library floor.
He fought the Kick-a-roo most ferociously.
The Trac-ball is great fun. He will hide from the ball
below the rim of the track, just in case it’s watching out for him.
And on the subject of hiding, he even found the sitting
room rug something with which to play.
He learned how to zoom through the nylon tunnel soon after
And when on the bed, why not grab at the comforter?
A balled up piece of scrap paper is better than any
shop-bought toy, it seems.
But at last, even Noah needs to rest. At least for a