We have a new cat. She belonged to our granddaughter who moved away. Now she belongs to us. Or we belong to her.
Our first worry was that she would pee in our house. She hasn't. There were three dogs in the other home that makes us believe Bean had dog anxiety. Her litter box is used and refreshed daily.
The second worry was that she would not be happy as an indoor cat. She is? She has enjoyed the view of the back yard from her cat tree and has figured out how to access every window sill in the house. (We have no plans to let her out where she would encounter one of the feral cats that recently bullied their way into our neighborhood. Oh! That's another post story, for sure!)
The final worry was that we might not be able to adjust to another pet. .... crickets......
Well here's the deal. Bean is part Siamese. All the bad parts.
For instance -- last night. Bedtime.
We crawl into bed. Yawn.
Bean climbs (not the first time) to the shelf above the mirror on my dresser. She knocks everything off in domino effect until she reaches the opposite end. By then the bedside lamp is on and I see her batting the closest picture to a sideways tilt as she tries to knock it down.
"BEAN!" we yell.
The hubby jumps out of bed and steps quickly through the obstacle course to reach up and remove her. Once he sets her squirmy body on the floor she rockets out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. We look at each other with 'rolly' eyes. He begins to pick up the mess. As I close the door I could hear her crunching on the dry cat food from her cat dish.
Awww.... but she heard me shut the door. Her sleek and graceful appearance is an illusion. She sounds like a buffalo stampede as she parkours through the living room, down the hall, and ends with a thunk near our door. She's been evicted from our room and knows the drill.
I swear she is now in retaliation mode.
We hear noises from the hallway bathroom. Clunk. The air freshener from the top of the toilet tank. Plunk. The foaming soap dispenser. Must have landed in the sink. A few more bings and bangs.
Arising once more, I sneak out the bedroom door. Flick the bathroom light. There she sits. Nonchalantly. Meeting my accusing glare with innocent blue eyes.
I backed out of the room and through my bedroom door. Daresay, I was worried about the rest of the house.
As soon as I opened the bedroom door this morning she was ready. Bean raced into the room and up on my dresser and on to the high shelf. Flick! Flick! Flick!
"BEAN!" I yelled. She jumped down.
I followed her out to the living room where everything looked surprisingly in order. I sat down in my rocker knowing the hubby was on to the coffee maker.
Bean immediately knocked my eye drops off the counter. My response was to jump up and retrieve the bottle. Her answer was to jump into the rocker to stretch out across the seat I had barely exited.
And smile. I swear she did.
Oh Bean. This is WAR!