Harpo & Milo

DISCLAIMER: Don't worry folks... this is NOT about to become a feline-focused Blog that natters on endlessly about nothing but how "pwecious and ca-yuuuute" my two cats are...

Well, possums... we all survived the weekend. Both cats are still alive, and I have a feeling (fingers crossed) that this will be a successful blending of furry children.

Of the two, Harpo seems to be transitioning in a smoother manner. Just as when I introduced him to his late housemate (Sophia), he was all friendship and playfulness after the initial shock of introduction. Milo, however, spent most of the first 72 hours cowering under my bed and slinking stealthily up and down my stairs between the food supply in the kitchen and his 2nd floor bolt-hole. And other than a few "face-offs" with H (where M felt compelled to hiss a bit and act tough), the only rough spot came last night around 10:30PM when Milo walked into the living room, made sure I could see him clearly, and proceeded to urinate copiously on the carpeting. Luckily I realized what he was preparing to do, so I leapt up and shooed him toward the litter pan in the kitchen & staved off the worst of the destruction.

The only way Milo could be more physically opposite of Harpo would be if he were white with a black spot (H has one stray white spot on his belly). M is a lo-o-o-o-ong lanky tabby, with pointed ears, paws the size of soup plates, and beautifully symmetric markings on his front legs. His build shrieks testosterone, and his butchness is only relieved by a sweet pair of green eyes. H is of a rounder build-- not fat, just less angular all-over. Milo is also much more physical-- Harpo does the usual amount of window ledge prowling & lap visiting. But Milo has one hell of a vertical leap. This morning I founding him perched on top of the very china cabinet that he was cowering under on Friday when I brought him home.

For now it still feels like I have a mute stranger for a houseguest. You don't know his tastes, and yet you're obliged to see to his needs and comfort without being able to ask him a damn word. I'm hoping the day will come, as has happened with Harpo, when I barely remember the time B.C- before cat.