I am becoming better acquainted with Neville, and he with me. It has taken a while for him to warm up to me, as he was rather stand-offish for a while. That’s understandable. I have noted that, like Josie, the Thin Man’s tail-action doesn’t always correspond with other signs, such as purring and kneading. He is a good example of the individuality of each cat, and how each must be known separately.
For his part, he is coming out of the library more and more. He could certainly stay in there, if he wished, and sometimes he does, for whole evenings, or hours at a time. But he will come out, too, usually heading for the tall cat-tree in the sitting room. If he disliked the fact that there were five other cats in the household to any great extent, he would remain in his safe-zone. He is coming to realise, however, that his new residence comprises a collection of loners and that, except for Raleigh, the other beasts want to know him as much as he wants to know them. I think he has decided that he can live with that.
Putting Nevsky back in his room for the night entails some grumbling and growling from him and, though I am wary of this cat who is, after all, still rather a stranger to me, I am beginning to suspect that, like Cammie, he is more hiss than bite. My guard will, though, remain at the ready for now. But for the most part, my new foster-cat’s integration is going well; it could be better, but it could be much worse.