Right. Puma and Cougar are a little bit shy.
Through the Jellybean's daughter, we ended up with a line on a pair of kitties that were needing a transitional home. She informed us that they were two boys, very low-key, and have been living alone while she visited them 2 x's a week for feeding/cleaning. After smoothing out the particulars, we agreed to take them on for the next few months. And so the last few weekends on the home front have been a flurry of activity. (The roommate, for those who know, spent about 28 hours over the course of two separate weekends laboriously cleaning his bedroom from top to bottom. For my part...I did some light vaccuuming/dusting and had a couple of beers.)
In case you're curious as to "how does it take that long to clean a room?"...let's just say I'm (slightly) certain he was trying to de-Georgeify the place- his concern being that since they are both male cats, they might get set off sniffing out another former kitty. (Albeit, one that hasn't been around in over 16 months) And that kiiinda was my concern as well, only not about the fact that there've been 2 different kitties in my house in my tenure. No, I was worried that the cats would become another casualty of their environment.
The 'Bean had a very specific and regimented way of caring for Georgie Cat. One that really didn't include catnip, treats (He kiboshed any treats, citing stomach issues) He'd stack boxes of kleenex set on top of high places to keep him from eating them...old plastic grocery bags kept locked away for the same reason. Very. Specific. So now, I made a point to tell him before they moved in that they were going to be our cats that we were fostering. And we would be sharing responsibility. Of that much, I actually put my foot down.
And so, without knowing what the hell they looked like...I came home last night to discover that there were two cats wedged beneath the fainting couch in the dining room. (One convalescing post-nut-snip-surgery) Cougar is the baby, at about 16-18 months. Puma is the shy guy with a squashy face and around 4 years or so.
And I hate their names. There, I said it. I don't care if they might be named after Big Cats...one sounds like the slang for an older woman on the prowl and the other is a lame Super-Villain...
My ability to bestow goofy nicknames notwithstanding, I'm going to need to have another sit-down with the Jellybean and see how flexible he could be with calling them something other than those heathen names. I made jokes about calling them "Arnold" and "Willis"...but it just doesn't fit. And the s#itty thing is that they're still pretty much hidden away so I don't know if they actually respond in some way to those names. Do I opt for witty and ironic? Weighty Historical names? Pop-Culture one-off's? Numbers? Something plain and easy...like "Barry" and "Carl"? "Frick and Frack"? This shit keeps me awake at night, people.
Regardless...I had a small victory early this morning while my roommate and I comically laid down on the floor in front of the divan to try coaxing them out. I managed to get Coug to come to me, and hold him, and give him his post-neutering prescription without a fuss. My roommie almost started crying. The second- smaller- victory is that even though Puma doesn't come out, he's got such a fat ass that it sticks out the corner of the couch. And so...I scratch it.
It's early. There've been no snuggles nor accidents. (My roommate moved just about everything that he assumed could be knocked over to the basement...this included my wine rack. I think another talk is in order. The basement is too far to go for Pinot Noir) Moreover and unfortunately, there'll be no pictures until they can drag their buns out for some quizzical exploration. I'm afraid you'll have to be happy with this...
And the fact that yes...I did procure a big old frassy bag of catnip and some Pounce...and those f#ckers love it. > : )
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