So far as introductions between dogs and cat go… progress is proceeding suspiciously well. Yesterday Monty decided that he was NOT content to hang out in my office behind the baby gate so I let him take a look around while the dogs were in the back yard; once liberated, he investigated the house from top to bottom while I followed him around, making sure he didn’t vanish into any weird cubbyholes or anything.
He did not, in fact, vanish into any cubbies. He explored as long as he felt like it, then retreated back upstairs to my office, where he crashed out on the bed. And speaking of stairs, despite my husband’s reservations about Monty being a tripod, I assure you that the kitty got the hang of them immediately.
He’s also getting the hang of being Boss of Dogs, which surprises no one more than yours truly - at least when it comes to Lucy. Greyson is a sweetheart and a pushover, a chicken on his best days. Lucy has never shown deference to any other carbon-based lifeform in this world… except for our dearly departed eldercat (who we lost in 2019). Lucy loved that tiny, geriatric revenant of a feline - and would have never crossed her in a million years. She’s literally the only entity who ever successfully told Lucy to BACK TF OFF, to the best of my knowledge.
Or she was. Until Monty.
She is actually giving him a respectful berth, coming as close as she dares up to the moment she sees him start to raise a paw of “no thank you.” Then she immediately retreats, often to me or my husband because she needs to be comforted after this vicious spate of feline bullying.
Last night, Monty decided to go for a little roam while the dogs were indoors, much as it worried me; he pushed past me at the baby gate and beelined for my husband’s office - where he hopped up onto the desk chair seat and made himself at home. Lucy was delighted! Here he was, right at face-level! It was time to greet! Yes?
Yes. At first. They hung out peacefully until Monty hopped down off the seat and Lucy tried to follow him, but she got too close and caught a paw (no claws) upside the head, along with a hiss. The dog toppled backwards as if she’d been hit with a log, then buried her head in my lap like the world was surely ending. It was truly tragic. And kind of funny.
Only kind of, though, because there’s always a chance that Lucy will remember she’s The Boss and start asserting herself. But we are going out of our way to give her BIG PRAISE for calmly tolerating the kitty, and MANY SNUGGLES when she starts looking jelly, or when she successfully interacts with him by either retreating as he prefers, or without causing him any gentle paw-lifts of warning.
Greyson, we aren’t worried about. But we’re giving him lots of love and reassurance, too, on general principle.
Last night I stayed upstairs with Monty and we left the office door open - but the baby gate stayed closed. The dogs didn’t even bother to come check him out all night, and he stayed put. The gate is mostly there as an Official Boundary at this point, and a test of how well everyone can respect such things - since literally any of them could get over, around, or through it at any time.
This afternoon while the dogs were outside, I let him loose to roam the house again - and when the dogs knocked on the back door with a request to come back in, Monty decided that he did NOT wish to return to his safety room. No, he’d rather stare at the dogs through the storm door (we have one at both the front and rear), and DOUBLE DOG DARE THEM to come at him, bro.
So I let the dogs inside.
If you click the link above re: Greyson, you’ll see how that went. Lucy was good, too - she approached softly, tail wagging slowly, good body language… and when Monty alllllmost lifted his slappin’ paw, she retreated before it was necessary. That was about two hours ago. The baby gate is still open, the dogs and cat all hung out together in the living area for a little bit; and now me, Monty, and Lucy are back in my office. Monty’s beside me on the bed. Lucy is on the floor nearest to Monty, intermittently napping and sighing dramatically. Greyson is in my husband’s office, staying out of any potential drama.
After the dogs get their afternoon walk, and once everyone has had some dinner/settled in for the evening… we’ll open the baby gate again and let the little dude roam the house while we watch TV. The dogs will be coming and going. We will keep an eye on Lucy, and make sure she’s not trying to chase him or anything like that. Monty is a little wary of being “cornered,” and since Lucy isn’t good with personal space…and this is a small old house with many corners…it’s just something we’re trying to stay aware of.
Depending on how that goes, tonight we might leave the baby gate open and let him roam alone. He could use a little unsupervised time in the house - I mean, hell, it’ll happen eventually.
That said, we won’t be leaving the crew alone together without people present in the house anytime soon. I have a second litterbox coming, and for a couple of weeks (I suspect) if we leave, he gets shut alone in my office - like it or not. I don’t really want a litter box in here any longer than necessary, mind you, but that’s okay. It’s only temporary, and I am all about the ol’ “abundance of caution” until everyone is very well acquainted, and very comfortable coexisting.
In other news, Monty has a “new patient” exam on June 16th. Lucy’s getting her booster shots anyway, and the vet said it was fine to add Monty to the appointment, so that’s what we’re doing.
The phone call was funny, though. The nice receptionist lady asked if there was anything in particular she should note, re: any questions or concerns about or new family member, so I gave her the litany, and she laughed her ass off - but apparently she only has so many characters she can enter on the appointment form, so she told me to pick something. I went with “upper respiratory infection follow-up.”
At present, sans the UR infection, he stands at: one missing tooth, one jacked-up toe, one missing hind limb, and one iffy eye. The sad/patchy fur situation will resolve on its own, but I do feel like he’s grooming himself a lot. Not to the point of bald patches or rashes, so hell, maybe he knows what he’s doing, who can say. We know he was exposed to ringworm at some point semi-recently, and while the shelter didn’t know if he’d actually contracted it or not, the folks there gave him a preemptive dip…and the volunteer implied he’d uh, had more hair before that event, so God knows.
He’s a little itchy, and has a number of small, healing scabs here and there (apart from the veritable constellation of small white scars). That’ll probably sort itself out too, but I’ll bring it up on doctor day.
Anyway. For now this is my “office” set-up, though in my defense, when the (queen-sized) murphy bed is in play, that takes up about 80% of the room. (It’s only about 10x10 feet. This is an old house, remember? Small rooms.) But hey, I’m not complaining.
