Echo is settling in well. She is much more relaxed than she was yesterday. This morning she lie very still on my lap and closed her eyes for several minutes while I stroked her side. How thin she is reminds me of Tungsten. Just fur and bones; but we’re working on that.
She is undoubtedly bored, confined to the bathroom, but I am starting to let her into the rest of the apartment. Last night, not wanting a repeat of the shower problems, I put her in the library during my ablutions; Parker was out among the other cats, as he usually is these days. Initially, Echo was excited in the library, but when I left her alone, she panicked a bit. But by the time I had finished my shower and come back to see her, she had discovered the window and was looking out. I will allow her access to the library and bedroom over the weekend, while the other beasts are kept out.
Echo goes to the veterinary on Tuesday, the twelfth. I foresee no health issues for the little creature. I want to ask about cutting her claws, though; there is no reason not to get her used to that early in life, but I need to know if there are differences between cutting a kittens’ claws and an adult cats’, other than that the kitten has rapiers while her older cousins have sabres. If all goes well at the doctor’s examination, Echo will be periodically released from solitary confinement and gradually integrated into the general prison population. So far, the only cat who has taken much interest in the newcomer has been Cammie, who has been hissing at her through closed doors.
I inadvertently startled Echo when, while I was brushing my teeth, she plunged her claws into my leg. The resultant yell caused the little one’s tail to poof and her back to arch. Her amber eyes grew large and she instantly stopped purring. But all was good again when I picked her up and apologised. Her motor started once more and she flipped over in my hand for some chest rubs.
I continue to try to take photographs of her but anything new attracts her attention, and she immediately advances on the camera. I have to catch her unawares to record her image. As she grows more accustomed to her new life, that too will change, I expect. There is much awaiting this tiny Echo, and she seems impatient to see it all.