Meowy Christmas

It happened. As an early Christmas gift, we now have a new kitty added to our chaotic family. I named her Tinkerbell.

I should have called her Schizo. Or Sybil.

I first saw her at the shelter when I took Scootch in for a checkup. This little kitty had pure black silky short hair, with golden orange eyes. She reached out with her little paw, playing with me without using her claws, and I was enchanted. I asked to see her and we were put in a room. She was a total doll, playing and letting me pet her- even her tail. She was sweet but not overly friendly- she was more interested in playing, not cuddling- but that was to be expected since she was only 2.5 years old and stuck in a cage all day. 

After a few conversations with my husband to form a game plan, I went to the shelter to take her home. She entered the carrier without a fuss, and didn't utter a single sound on the way home.

The second we brought the carrier in, our boys wanted to see what was up. She hissed. We took her upstairs. She was going to reside in my daughter's room for most of the time until they got used to each other. Cats don't get along at first- she needed to get used to the sights and sounds of a new home, and my boys needed to get used to a new girl in the house.

We let her roam about when everyone is home for just a few hours each day- eight eyes are better than two, and the worst that's happened so far is growling, hissing and a few staring contests. The funniest part is that our boys are scared of her!

She comes down the stairs and they run. Yet when I come near her she runs. Tinkerbell seems to be bonding with my daughter (which is what we wanted), but she doesn't seem to like me. At least not yet. I hate this part of the bonding process because I have to be patient- and I'm not a patient person. I'm used to being able to charm animals, but Tinkerbell is slow to warm up to me. She likes my husband though- at least, until he pets her too fast- then he's rewarded with a swat.

She'll lay down with us one minute, and the next make a dash upstairs for no reason. Crazy cat.

I found her lying on my daughter's bed the other day and reached out to pet her. She was into it at first, but then tried to nip me. I tried easing my hand near her and she placed her paw on my hand, claws extended just enough so I could feel them. I got the hint and removed my hand. Slowly.

I know it will take time for her to get used to us. She was adopted before and returned, and I won't allow that to happen again. But I really do hope that she calms down and becomes the sweet little cat I met in the shelter. But for now, I'll have to play Kitty Referee and Master of Distractions to avoid any serious fights.

Maybe if I rolled myself in catnip...?