A few weeks ago, Dude’s friend called and told him that a stray kitten had followed her two outdoor cats into the house. Since she knew I had been wanting another kitty, she wondered if we’d be interested. Duh. KITTY. Well, as long as it was a boy, because female cats are great but I ain’t havin none of it.
So he sent me a picture and I sappily said oh yes, please, and after a stop at Pet Smart, here he was.
After introductions and a thorough flea bath, the Kid got to name him as Dude named our first cat (Joker) and I named our Bearded Dragon (Princess Loki Mononoke). So, we welcomed Leonidas to our ridiculous little family.
I knew it wouldn’t be simple, socializing two male cats of different ages, especially since Joker is a spoiled punk mama’s boy. On top of the fact that DOMINATION seems to be the order of the day, they argue over perches and toys and boxes and attention. We’ve all gone out of our way to make sure both are equally loved and snuggled, and while he fights back with the best of him, Leo is ready to be BFF’s.
It’s getting better, slowly but surely.
After all that though, I truly feel like I have a home full of toddlers. I am either feeding creatures, cleaning said creatures shit, or breaking up fights. Any neighbors that can hear me through the walls, I swear to goodness that I am not threatening to punch actual children in their tiny little skulls.
Maybe, once these idiots calm down enough to not need near constant supervision, I would love to do the thing where I pop in earbuds and do that wacky thing called writing stories.
At least they aren’t fighting messy food bowl wars anymore.
Wish me luck. Please. Lots and lots of luck.