Last night I slept on the couch, as I was a little concerned about SOME cat’s wild-ass wee-hours zoomies attracting unwanted Lucy attention, but I need not have worried. When we all turned in for bedtime, Monty was snoozing on his cat tree by the window; but he woke up at some point in the middle of the night and forgot where he was, I suppose, and started crying. His most common vocalization is the softest little “meep,” it’ll break your heart, I swear.
So I called his name (who even knows if he recognizes it yet, probably not) and my voice was enough to lure him or remind him. He spent the rest of the night parked on top of me, purring and/or snoring his little face off.
Speaking of his little face, I’ve got one more thing to add to the tally of “stuff to ask the vet about.” He has some kind of…callous? sore? about half the size of a fingernail on the inside of his mouth - the inside of his lip, really, right where it ought to sit on top of that now-missing fang. I hope/suspect that it’s just a leftover scar or something from whatever cost him the tooth, but it’s very odd-looking. You can only see it when he rolls over and purrs, and his mouth falls open a little bit.
It doesn’t seem to hurt him, and he doesn’t protest too much when I lift his lip to take a look, so. Anyway, I’ll add it to the list.
A gray tabby cat sits on a banister, staring down at the world with big gold eyes.
Every morning, first thing we do is give each of the dogs a Dentastick and send them outside to chill until their walk. This is always a thunderous event, galloping big dogs stomping into the kitchen, thrilled for the morning treat (and maybe the chance to pee), and it used to send Quinnie scrambling for safety under the bistro table - even though it was a daily occurrence and she knew it was coming.
Not this little dude. This little dude came storming into the kitchen right along with them, ignoring them (and they barely noticed him), just wanting to know what all the excitement was about. Then he platformed his way up onto the kitchen island to wait for his own breakfast of gooshy food laced with antibiotics.
Tomorrow is his last day on meds for the time being, so after that, he won’t be getting so much wet food. (He loves dry food - even prefers it - so we’re happy to pare it down to dry-only, as long as it works for everyone.) I say "for the time being” because it wouldn’t shock me if he ends up needing another round of something or another. I haven’t heard him sneezing or sniffling in a couple of days, and his energy levels are um, very good.
This is Day #2 of him having full access to the household, and he is taking FULL ADVANTAGE. He’s been zooming up and down the stairs, darting under and over furniture, leaping onto windowsills, and treating the stair bannisters like his own personal catwalk. Which I guess they are, kind of. He’s also very excited to have a toy box, and is an absolute murderer of mousies and feather wands.
As for the dogs, things continue to progress. I want to say “slowly” but it’s all relative, right? They are trying very hard to be on their very best behavior, despite Monty’s bully behavior as he asserts his independence and need for space.
This morning, Greyson got a good head-whapping when he tried to get a drink of water - because I’m a dumbass who put the cat tree too close to it. The cat tree has now been adjusted so it sits farther away from the bowl, and post-walkies I’ll just have to pick Monty up and put him somewhere else, if he’s present. Otherwise Greyson will die of thirst, because now he won’t go near it if the cat is in the vicinity. ::sigh:: At least they have a bowl outside on the deck.
Then, after I did a video call with a classroom, Monty decided to join Greyson on the adjacent unoccupied dog bed - just like Quinnie used to do. They were actually fine; Greyson smiled and did the dog-polite thing of trying not to make direct eye contact, and Monty took a little bath.
Until I tried to sneak a picture.
Monty likes to try and head-butt the camera, and his sudden movement startled the poor pooch. But no harm, no foul. No dog-heads were whapped, and I got a hell of a shot out of it.
Gray tabby cat halfway through hopping off a dog bed, while the dog on the adjacent bed looks like he’s just seen Dracula.
Lucy is more proactive in her friendship efforts, which is unfortunate - because the cat is clearly more comfortable with Greyson due to his general deference and avoidance. But she’s getting there. This morning she actually did a play-bow and a soft “woof” and she was, shall we say, rebuffed. So she was forced to content herself with proximity, rather than party-time.
Thus far, the arc of their interactions has gone from Cat Hisses at Dog Overtures, to Cat Is Content to Ignore Dogs and Their Overtures, to Cat Gets Vaguely Curious about Dogs. Next up, if we’re lucky: Cat Decides Dogs are Generally Okay, and then on to Cat and Dogs are Friends.
But it’s only been six days, and this is only Monty’s second full day of household freedom. I know, I know. It’ll take a minute. While I’m eager to see him coexist with the dogs a little more amicably, the trajectory of their interactions seems pretty good so far, and I’m trying to be patient.
Anyway, at present everyone is napping - Greyson outside under the deck, Lucy downstairs in the basement bathroom (it’s her favorite place in the house, so cool and quiet), and Monty on the short cat tree by the window. I’m kind of keeping one eye on him, not because he’s acting like anything’s wrong, but because we moved his litterbox into the bathroom cabinet with the custom cubby last night… and I don’t think he’s used it yet. Since then he’s eaten like a little horse, consumed plenty of water, and both belched and farted post-breakfast - and I’m starting to worry that he’s picked someplace else in the house to use for his pottying needs. ::eyes all the corners with suspicion::
Tonight, husband and I will both sleep in our own damn bed, and I guess we will see how it goes with the zoomies. Monty has a number of places he can go to get away from the dogs, if he feels the need; he fits into a multitude of places where they don’t, and he now knows where those places are. He also knows that they will both obey his slappin’ paw (even sans claws), and, I do believe… he knows that he is home for good.
smug lil sumbitch kitty camps out on my husband’s legs while husband pokes around on an iPad