Not only does he own the place, but he owns you, too! Our dominant cat is my husband’s cat, not mine, but she still lets Feather, (my cat), know that ALL the humans belong to her.
It’s been mostly peaceful today. I awoke to find Ringo library-lioning at the foot of the bed. Two of the orange boys were visible lying on the floor waiting for me to get up and provide breakfast. Sally was by my head, bleerting and diving under the covers. A good start! But when I got up and about, one of the residents must have looked the wrong way at Ringo and got chased for its impudence.
Ringo did attack Sophie this morning. She and he were on the floor, a couple of feet apart, staring; she growled, as she does whenever one of the orange boys looks at her with “Pounce!” intent; and in a flash it was a rolling shrieking fur-flying fracas which I managed to break up after a minute. There’ve been a couple more occasions where I either stopped an assault before it was launched by spritzing Ringo from a spray bottle of water or held him still where he was lying against me until his intended target left the area.
On the other hand, the new guy hasn’t gone after Sophie since this morning’s assault, even though she’s been spending her time on an office chair and he’s very conscious of her when he comes in the room to be near me. He contemplated Sally in her lair on the top floor, he under one twin bed and she under the other, and didn’t attack. He doesn’t watch Pumpkin, when my plump little boy ventures from hiding, with the same aggressive wariness he has for ETF.
Thing is, though, it’s been quiet mostly because the other cats are staying in their refuges. Almost every time time Ringo sees one near him on the floor he goes on alert, then (if I don’t distract or dissuade him) oozes after them, breaking into a charge when they bolt. So Sally and Pumpkin lurk under bedcovers on the third floor; Sophie stays in the office (which is, to be fair, her favorite place anyway); Fred’s mostly staying under a bedroom bureau; Ted moves from lair to lair; Ed spends most of his time on top of the china cabinet; and I haven’t seen Squash at all, though I can tell he’s hiding behind the furnace.
Which lays a considerable burden of guilt on me, that my resident seven are having their lives upended by this guy. Their quality of life is, pretty much, in the toilet right now, and I don’t know whether they’ll ever be allowed to take back their rightful share of their home and of me. Ringo is very affectionate, happy to ooze his sturdy body over my lap or stretch it snug in the space between my leg and the recliner’s arm. He would, I suspect, be happier as an only cat who could monopolize his owner, not have to share his human – which, I have to say, so far he seems disinclined to do.
Ah, well, it’s still early days. But if I don’t see a growing willingness on Ringo’s part to let the others have the freedom of the house, then, much as I care for the fellow – and I do, he’s a delightful guy – I’ll have to ask the shelter to take him back and find him the kind of home he deserves. I sure as heck don’t want to and will give it plenty of time before I get to that point, though. I want this to work – for all of us – very very much. But the seven who were here before him have rights and needs too. I can’t take their happy life away from them.
Update as I type this: Ringo’s come into the office, eyed Sophie in her chair beside me, and walked away with unaggressive body language. Now he’s lying in the hall just outside the doorway. Now Fred’s come up from the first floor, inched by against the far wall of the landing, and slunk into the bedroom unmolested – so far, dammit. Ringo just now got up to follow him. [Gets up and follows them] All right, Fred is now under the dresser, Ringo is lying more or less peaceably under the bed, and the tension level is reasonably low.
Fingers crossed, please!
Mine are crossed 
He’s beautiful. I really hope it all works out.
He is ridiculously gorgeous and seems to be quite dominant; give it a week and see if it pans out, if not, it’s not worth making everyone so unhappy especially when Ringo may be happiest with someone all to himself.
But thank you for taking in an older cat, he’s so beautiful!
ETF - When I brought Spike into the mixture everyone was unhappy for about a month. Spike was half-grown and would pick fights with the other cats. Slowly but surely they figured out their places. Sabrina’s venturing off the dresser and sits in my lap more than ever now. Papi is still a pain int he butt, but she always has been. Nick seems to even enjoy Spike’s company. Spike has no fear - he’ll walk up the Grace the doberman and try to push her out of her food bowl.
StG
I asked one of our 8 cats for her expert opinion on this story.
Her reply.
Following the lead of jsgoddess, I decided to ask our resident Fat Boy what he thought of the situation, since he had a new cat introduced into his home fairly recently.
His reply.
Translation: “when in doubt, wash!”
Hee hee! I’m hoping that Fred will be feeling that way soon, so I can see the same reaction!
StG, I sure hope your Spikification of the household reflects what will happen in mine. Herewith my latest report via email to the shelter folks and friends:
An email from Barb, who runs adoptions from the shelter and who is keeping in close touch to see how it all works out, and my reply:
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Thursday, March 15, 2007 5:50 AM
Subject: Good Morning
Read the update …Hope everyone slept & not too much tension last nite…Sounds like the disputes are less…but the chases/attacks from Ringo are still on. I can see why the other cats choose their refuges…for peace!! Ofcourse the shelter will take him back…but it’s early on still…and it does seem better…even if the cats are seeking out their secure hiding spots right now…Let’s see what happens today…I know Squash was behind the furnace /Ed feels safe on top your cabinet!..fingers crossed
Judging by the disappearance of the food I put out last night before going to bed, everyone’s eating at least.
Right now Ringo is sitting behind me, eating some of the catfood I put down a little while ago for Sophie and Sally, who are sharing my office as their refuge. Sophie herself came downstairs while I was watching the news/weather report a few minutes ago and didn’t get chased, although Ringo did stalk towards her, then stop and sit when I distracted him, then eventually walk carefully away from where she was hiding, growling, under my recliner. For whatever reason he seems less inclined to go after her than the orange boys.
Pumpkin, poor dear little guy who just wants to be friends with everyone, came into the bedroom before I got up this morning, gazing humbly up at the Invading Monster ensconsed at the foot of my bed. The IM gazed down meaningfully at him. Pumpkin slowly worked up the courage to approach the bed, put tentative paws on its side, and start to rear up, offering a humble nose to sniff. Ringo went after him and chased him downstairs but, judging from the sounds, didn’t catch and maul him. He still doesn’t seem to take Pumpkin as seriously as ETF, even when they’re within a foot or two of each other.
I’m going to give it at least another week, unless someone gets hurt, but if the others still can’t leave their refuges and spend time with me without being attacked, in other words if things are still as they are right now, then, well…
I really hope I don’t have to bring him back, though. He’s a totally lovable guy. One good thing I’m seeing out of all this: Whether he stays with me or goes to a one-cat home, he’ll happily fit right in and enjoy life from the git-go. This guy figures life is his oyster.
Just now, after typing that: Ringo's in the office. Sophie and Sally are on the worktable. Sophie is growling down at Ringo while Sally watches tensely, bugeyed (well, she's always bugeyed, she's built that way, but you know what I mean).
Hey! He looked at her, then slunk away! Yay!We live with a certain amount of tension between a few of the cats. Very rarely do we have anything big happen, but there’s some fussing every once in a while. Albert hates Irving. Cosmo tries to dominate the world but she’s too small and everyone tries to ignore her until she escalates. That sort of thing.
It’s interesting to watch the power and hierarchies shift when there’s a change. When our Ugly died, there was a lot of turmoil while things got sorted out. In the end, the only real change was that Isaac got to sleep next to my husband. 
It appears there’s some merit in the ostrich approach to interfeline relations: If I can’t see you, you’re no threat. Behold Ringo sleeping peacefully beside the bedlump that is Ted. The full sequence of Ringo’s noticing the Tedness near him, appraising it, and deciding to ignore it, starts here in his Webshots album.
Unfortunately, after those photos were taken, Sophie pattered into the bedroom, muttering small curses as she felt the Evil One’s gaze upon her. Ringo locked eyes on her and tensed. My efforts at distracting him caused Ted to move. Ringo pounced on the mobile bedlump. Ted fled to the basement, with Ringo in spray-bottle-spritzed, half-hearted pursuit, broken off on the first floor.
If I weren’t worried about someone getting hurt, this would all be hilarious.
Please keep updating us. I hope things are smoothing out.
Ringo should be flipping a coin in his paw, checking out all the skirts, with his fedora below one eye.
He’s a handsome fella, all right!
As it happens, I am giving serious thought to returning Ringo, even though things are getting calmer. Ringo himself has certainly made himself at home here. Why? Because I think he’d be happier as an only cat, and I suspect he’s never going to let the others have unhindered access to me. At least the boys; Sophie he now seems unbothered by. But he just chased Sally away from me and had to be spritzed to stop the pursuit.
He’s very affectionate, wants to be near me if not actually in my lap most of the time, follows me around the house like a dog, and in general appears to regard me as his property. The other cats had worked out time shares in me and everybody got as much attention as they wanted. Now they’ve been pushed to the periphery of the house and he’s monopolizing me. That’s not fair to them, and I’m getting the strong impression that’s the way he intends to keep things.
Also, poor sweet timid Squash is still hiding behind the furnace, has been since his one venture out to the top of the kitchen cabinets (which Ringo has learned how to get up on), and must be sick with fear. I can’t be putting him through that kind of misery for weeks on the mere hope that Ringo will mellow enough to let Squash (and the others) move about their home as freely as they once did.
What’s really tough is that I like him more every day. He’s a real cool cat. But – but – he’s only one of eight, and the newest at that. If his presence will continue to make life miserable for the other seven, then I’ll have to do what’s right for them. No matter how much I’d hate having to do it.
A memory is haunting me now – a memory of a cat I had long ago, a lovely girl named Tribble. She was a rescue I had when I lived in a Boston apartment. I brought in another adult rescue who displaced her as boss cat. After a few months Tribble despaired to the point of refusing to eat and hiding all the time. My vet found nothing physically wrong with her, but she finally got so weak she had to be put to sleep. She’d lost the desire to live.
No way in hell will I let that happen to Squash.
As much as I hate to say it, I think you’re right when you say Ringo might have to go. He’s not going to change, and the other cats won’t, either. After six years together, our girls have gotten as close as they’re going to, and they will never like each other. It sounds like he should be easy to place - he’s beautiful, and he has a wonderful personality. He’s just not right for your house.
It’s a really hard choice to make, but you have to do the best thing for your existing family. I know you’ll miss him, but it sounds like Ringo will do just fine with another owner/slave as an only cat.
If you do have to return him don’t beat yourself up about it. You tried to make it work. It just wasn’t meant to be.
I just got off the phone with the adoption manager. Ringo will go back to the shelter (it’s no-kill, by the way), probably later today. She was marvelously understanding. We talked at length about it from all angles, and agreed a different home would be best for him – a one-cat home. Sunday afternoon is open house at the shelter, and there’s often a good turnout of possible adopters, so I’d like to get him returned in time for that.
Ringo I am positive will do just fine with anyone who takes him, and will be a happier cat without rivals for the attention of his human(s). I feel sad at saying goodbye to him, but just can’t let my other cats lose so much enjoyment of their lives. I’m bummed out, but do believe the decision is right for everyone involved.
Damn. It’s the right thing to do, but still – damn.
Don’t be too bummed out - you and the shelter know what is best for him now, so the new home he goes to will be a much better fit for him, and he’ll be happier in the long run. Maybe you can think of it as a learning experience.
Maybe you can get visiting rights? You have done the right thing at in spite of the pain to yourself. You’re a good cat-person.
He went back to the shelter at noon today, and returned to the big open airy catroom as insouciantly as if he’d never left it. The shelter people there, Barb and Fred, couldn’t have been kinder or more understanding. Barb even told me she hadn’t deposited my adoption fee check yet and wanted to give it back to me. I said no, keep it, and if the shelter gets a kitten in with Ringo’s marvelous coat color and pattern give me first dibs on it.
Which may happen sooner than one might think. Ringo (shelter name, Peter) was one of three cats brought in from a “bad situation” – no further details given – along with another, very timid male, a white with gray patches (Paul), and a pregnant female (Mary). Mary is out in foster care, and may have had her litter already but in any case will be kittening soon. What odds that Ringo is the sire of her litter? So who knows but what there’s a little orange marble tabby incubating away, a mini-Ringo for me to adopt when s/he’s old enough – a Ringoletto, as it were!
How are my cats doing now? They’re all still on high alert, waiting for The Invading Monster to appear and drive them back into hiding, but to some degree are taking their first hesitant steps back toward a normal life. Sophie is the least upset, in fact she’s puttering around pretty much normally. Ed is wary but he just now came down from the china cabinet to see what food I’d put down, giving Sophie a light body-rub “hello friend” as he passed her – something he normally doesn’t do, by the way.
Sally and Pumpkin appear every little while, looking about nervously, say hello, and go back into hiding, but they seem a bit less tense. Fred I actually coaxed out from under the dresser for some cuddling and – ah, Sally just ran into the office and is twining around my legs, complaining softly about what an ordeal she’s been through and will I please pet her NOW?!?
As I was saying: Fred crept out, looking happy, let me hold him and love on him for a bit while he kept an eye on the bedroom door, then when I put him down he didn’t go back into his hidey-hole immediately, though he’s there now. Ted is up on top of the kitchen cabinets, not persuaded yet that it’s safe to come down.
And Squash? No longer behind the furnace, though it’s not his choice to leave there. I was sufficiently worried about his well-being to attempt an extraction. Not an easy task, given how cramped the narrow area containing the furnace (and the water heater in front of it) is. I wound up half-kneeling, half belly-down on a horizontal piece of ductwork, my head jammed into a vertical piece at a neck-spraining angle, my left arm stretched out along the vertical piece, probing behind it with a windshield snowbrush to push Squash back out of the deepest corner, while I tried to reach his huddled little body with a right arm that really, really needed to bend in several places to get to him.
At last I was able to just touch his scruff, to inch it closer, to get a grip, and to lift him out. Then came the really fun part – trying to unpretzel from my ludicrous capture position and back out of a space barely wide enough to squeeze through even when not encumbered with a scruffed cat hanging limp but ready to twist free and bolt if given any purchase for its paws. I managed it, carried my terrified little cream bundle upstairs, deposited him in the living room, and quickly closed the basement door before he could dart back to his safe place.
At the moment he’s crouched on top of the kitchen cabinets with Ted, glaring fearfully down at the world. I plan to keep the basement door closed for a few days, till he’s convinced he’s safe. Fortunately there are three big litter boxes on the top floor so no one will need to use the two on the lowest level. When I’m sure he’s feeling safe again they’ll all regain their access to the basement.
Squash seems okay physically, though I daresay the mental anguish I’ve subjected him to would earn him an immense settlement should he choose to bring suit against me for intentional infliction of emotional distress. Sally keeps coming in to harass me for attention as I write this. I think all will be well as the residents slowly reassure themselves that he’s really, really, REALLY gone.
I’m looking forward to seeing which felines I’ll wake up to finding sharing the bed with me tomorrow, and
OH BOY!!! Squash is in the hallway now outside my office door, sniffing cautiously as he creeps about! I’m not going to try to touch him or get near him, though, not until he comes up to me and asks for contact. But I am SO RELIEVED!!!
Sigh. I miss Ringo, I got tremendously fond of him in the few days we had together, but the decision to bring him back was the right one for everyone. I’ll be sure to visit him each open house until he finds his New! Improved! home.
I’m going to be extremely selfish and ask that you keep posting updates. I’m fascinated by this thread. Glad your kitties are feeling a bit more secure.