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I now have two cats sleeping on my bed at night.
Gillian came from his second viral test (FIV/FeLV) with a clean bill of health, so after Thanksgiving's busyness I began integrating Gillian and August. They've seen and smelled much of one another in passing; I started by letting them both out only at feeding time, because it's hugely distracted for both of them (August is food-anxious, Gillian is food-happy) thus they could share space without direct interaction. Then I started letting them out together in the body of the house for a couple minutes at a time, after which August would come decompress with me in my room.
August isn't fearful, but she's cautious in a way that Gillian is not: he has some cat sensibilities and will jump at loud noises, but he's a confident, pushy beast. That means that all of this has been a little hard on me, despite the fact that integration is going smoothly: August is my baby and my first priority, and seeing her a little wary in the face of Gillian's intense nonchalance upset me; when they had exactly the sort of scuffles I expected they would have, August was the one being chased. It did her no harm, and after a few minutes she was ready to try again; I've also been careful not to show any of my resentment to Gillian. But acknowledged and containing my feelings in the wake of Thanksgiving ... I dunno, I've just been wiped out lately,
After a day of fifteen minute interactions, I started leaving my door open and interviening less. Gillian spent most of his time downstairs, as usual (I imagine upstairs still has some "locked in the bathroom" connotations); August spent most of her time in my bedroom, as usual. At night they each slept likewise. But the night after, Gillian found August's blanket on my bed and made himself at home there, and after some coaxing (I found August asleep in the small laundry hamper in the bathroom, it was actually adorable) August also slept on the bed.
Last night they shared opposite ends of August's blanket.
August is still a bit wary and they're not snuggling or anything, but when Gillian plays August may feels the urge to play, and they can sniff each other without anyone bolting, and there are two cats on my bed: this was pretty much what I hoped for from my future, back when I first took Gillian inside.
He's a remarkably different cat that I thought he was—not just age and sex, but he's a ridiculous and feisty thing. He's still in his e-collar; I'll try removing it after the cats are completely settled, and see if a calm environment and behavioral therapy (read: distractions) can cure his overgrooming. If not, I'd rather keep him in an e-collar than put him on medication—call this a neurotic human's bias—although I may commission my mother (who sews and makes fabric arts) for a pair of cloth collars which look nice and would be easy to throw in the wash. It's a pity: he's adorable under there.
The bond I have with August is intense. She is my childsister cat and I love her beyond reason; I speak of my love for her the way that Devon speaks of his love for me. She is my heart. Gillian isn't that, and I don't mind. This is a relationship I was careful not to demand of August when I brought her home, but I found it and it filled the hole in me that was shaped like a cat. It's not something I need from Gillian, which may be good because he's so broad and greedy with affection—and because I can't expect two miracles. I'm content with our annoying demanding ridiculous meowing heat-seeking cat missile in a dumb collar, and August is figuring him out, too.
Gillian came from his second viral test (FIV/FeLV) with a clean bill of health, so after Thanksgiving's busyness I began integrating Gillian and August. They've seen and smelled much of one another in passing; I started by letting them both out only at feeding time, because it's hugely distracted for both of them (August is food-anxious, Gillian is food-happy) thus they could share space without direct interaction. Then I started letting them out together in the body of the house for a couple minutes at a time, after which August would come decompress with me in my room.
August isn't fearful, but she's cautious in a way that Gillian is not: he has some cat sensibilities and will jump at loud noises, but he's a confident, pushy beast. That means that all of this has been a little hard on me, despite the fact that integration is going smoothly: August is my baby and my first priority, and seeing her a little wary in the face of Gillian's intense nonchalance upset me; when they had exactly the sort of scuffles I expected they would have, August was the one being chased. It did her no harm, and after a few minutes she was ready to try again; I've also been careful not to show any of my resentment to Gillian. But acknowledged and containing my feelings in the wake of Thanksgiving ... I dunno, I've just been wiped out lately,
After a day of fifteen minute interactions, I started leaving my door open and interviening less. Gillian spent most of his time downstairs, as usual (I imagine upstairs still has some "locked in the bathroom" connotations); August spent most of her time in my bedroom, as usual. At night they each slept likewise. But the night after, Gillian found August's blanket on my bed and made himself at home there, and after some coaxing (I found August asleep in the small laundry hamper in the bathroom, it was actually adorable) August also slept on the bed.
Last night they shared opposite ends of August's blanket.
August is still a bit wary and they're not snuggling or anything, but when Gillian plays August may feels the urge to play, and they can sniff each other without anyone bolting, and there are two cats on my bed: this was pretty much what I hoped for from my future, back when I first took Gillian inside.
He's a remarkably different cat that I thought he was—not just age and sex, but he's a ridiculous and feisty thing. He's still in his e-collar; I'll try removing it after the cats are completely settled, and see if a calm environment and behavioral therapy (read: distractions) can cure his overgrooming. If not, I'd rather keep him in an e-collar than put him on medication—call this a neurotic human's bias—although I may commission my mother (who sews and makes fabric arts) for a pair of cloth collars which look nice and would be easy to throw in the wash. It's a pity: he's adorable under there.
The bond I have with August is intense. She is my childsister cat and I love her beyond reason; I speak of my love for her the way that Devon speaks of his love for me. She is my heart. Gillian isn't that, and I don't mind. This is a relationship I was careful not to demand of August when I brought her home, but I found it and it filled the hole in me that was shaped like a cat. It's not something I need from Gillian, which may be good because he's so broad and greedy with affection—and because I can't expect two miracles. I'm content with our annoying demanding ridiculous meowing heat-seeking cat missile in a dumb collar, and August is figuring him out, too.
