A Tale of Two Kitties

This morning my kitchen was Ground Zero for introducing my current cat, Harpo, with a new donor-kitty, Milo. I've been wanting a second cat (to keep Harpo company when I travel), but I've been so busy actually TRAVELING that I never got around to getting the job done. So when my boss mentioned that he was looking for a new home for his cat (a beautiful 2-year-old tabby) I leaped at the chance. He assured me that the only reason they were needing to relocate him was because their 8-month-old puppy had taken to terrorizing Milo (i.e. carrying him by the neck and flinging him "playfully" in the air, as well as other undesirable behaviors). Since the puppy is property of their son (who will NOT give the pup up), they decided that the meek could not inherit the earth in their home, and that wussy-boy had to go... Milo also has the additional selling point of already being neutered & declawed, just like Harpo. So I figured my vision of nirvana would be completed by having two affectionate men in my home who neither expect sex nor could claw me to take revenge for not getting any...

I had sequestered Harpo outside of the kitchen so that I could get Milo safely indoors and settled before I made the big introduction. Milo at first refused to come out of the cat carrier, immune to all of wheedling, coaxing and cajoling. I finally resorted to slowly up-dumping the box, only to have the cat magically wedge himself up... inside ... the box... It took several gentle shakes to finally force his flattened furry form onto the linoleum, and from there he gave me a look that spoke volumes. "WHO are you? WHY do I smell another cat? WHERE is that friggin' puppy that tortures me? WHAT kind of mad woman are you???" and finally, "HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE???" Milo made a beeline for the corner under my china closet, scrunched his butt against the wall, and hunkered down for battle.

Meanwhile, the kitchen door that I thought I had latched came gliding open, thanks to a swift head-butt from Harpo, who likewise wanted his own questions answered. "WHO closed this door? HOW come I can't get to my food and water bowls? WHY can't I get to my favorite window hammock to watch birds and sleep???" After making his disgruntled mr-r-r-r-UP sound, Harpo did his little "doop-dee-doop-dee-doop whazzup?" walk into the room, oblivious that the hounds of war had been unleashed. I took the chance to sneak out of the kitchen to use the bathroom, and hurried back to see if they discovered each other yet. In typical male oblivion, Harpo was still so busy sniffing the carrier & new litter box that he hadn't started to search for the source of the new smells. So I took matters in hand and grabbed Harpo's beloved jingley - sparkley - thing - on - a - stick, and slowly lured him over towards Milo's hiding place.
Game on.

I've never seen a silent cat confrontation before. Usually they are heralded by guttural growls, throaty gurgles and hissing, followed by either a heated battle or a decision to part company. But the boys both stood their ground and eye-balled each other for a good 5 minutes. Other than Harpo's tail doubling in size, there was no evidence that a power-play was in motion. When I saw that the tail was returning to normal, I backed away and headed for the door to get back to work. Milo then made a frantic leap up onto the dividing wall that parallels the entryway & was looking at me with saucer-sized eyes. I approached him, again trying to use the wheedling tone, which only caused him to back up and begin to slide down between the wall and the china cabinet. My last view was of Milo sinking back toward the floor, as clawless paws clung to the ledge in desperation. That was 3 hours ago, and I'll be heading home for lunch shortly to asses the damage. As mellow as Harpo is, they'll probably be best buds already, sharing the feeder and snoozing in the cat hammock.