The vet called at noon, wondering where Findus was for his shot. CatMom forgot. Anyway, we got in at 14:00.
Findus now weighs 8.4 pounds. Just under five pounds heavier than when we got him. 
Findus says the food supply is good!
The next week, Betty Andersson returned with a cardboard box.
‘This will keep you company,’ she said, giving the box to Pettson.
‘What’s this?’ the old man wondered, and read the label: ‘It says “Findus Green Peas”. These peas are squeaking.’ He opened the box, and there, on a piece of green stripy cloth, was a kitten. It eyed Pettson and peep-squeaked.
‘Hello Findus Green Peas,’ said Pettson. He felt the way you do when you draw open the curtains on a summer morning and the warm sunshine pours in.
‘I’m Pettson, and this is my kitchen. You can live here if you like. Do you want some coffee?’
Nice!
— though I do hope the kitten rejected the coffee and was offered something more suitable.
I had a cat once who loved coffee beans; which I discovered when I spilled a couple refilling the grinder. I called the vet and asked how many coffee beans were a safe dose for a cat. She said, “I’ll have to do some research, I’ve never been asked that one before”; and called back a couple of days later to say that while she hadn’t been able to find much on the subject, she was pretty sure one or two wouldn’t hurt him.
So whenever I filled the grinder (which wasn’t all that often, it holds close to a pound), I gave him a coffee bean. I had to be really careful not to spill a lot of them, though, because I’m pretty sure he’d have overdosed.
I miss that cat.
None of the others have ever shown the slightest interest in coffee beans.
That’s on the next page: ‘He doesn’t drink coffee,’ said Betty Andersson, ‘he needs milk. And he could probably eat something too.’
Abbey hasn’t growled at Findus recently, but she did today.
Findus was stalking her. He still is, but she’s not growling. (Actually, right now he’s at the ready on the ottoman.)
EDIT: Annnnnnd… Just as I posted, the chase is on.
Friendly chase?
— sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell; especially in the early stages of them working this out.
Findus is really trying to make friends, and he wants to play. Abbey isn’t necessarily amused. Abbey slept on the other end of the couch (where she is now, awake), and Goo slept on the back of the couch, while Findus got pets on my lap. They were all in the same room together, and everything was peaceful.
This sounds like progress.
Kasya and Buddy wrestle, chase each other, and play slappy-paws around/under doors. They’ve been sighted cuddling on their own initiative (whoever got there first didn’t seem to object to the company), and I’ve even seen Buddy give Kasya a few licks when they were both in my desk chair and he decided to groom himself. Allie never did really accept Buddy as a housemate, but the current two are doing fine.
Poor Kasya’s not going to be a happy kitten on the 12th. She’s scheduled for her spay that day. In the meantime, she’s staying inside. Buddy was snipped years before her birth (he’s a TNR graduate), so she’s safe with him if she decides to go into heat in the next few weeks.
For such a little kitten, Findus has some mighty farts.
Abbey is curled up in the top of the cat tree. Findus is sitting on the middle shelf. Abbey is not amused, but she’s stopped growling.
Kasya has her moments, too, but mostly it’s her litterbox deposits. Thankfully, she’s gotten a lot better about burying the stinkies.
CatMom said, ‘I know. I sleep with him.’
Abbey finally smacked Findus.
Goo attacks him for apparently no reason. Abbey just growls and hisses. But today, Abbey was in the top of the cat tree. Findus was on the next shelf down, saying, ‘Let’s play! I want to be your friend!’ Abbey growled. This went on for a while, with Findus reaching to the rim of the circle where Abbey was lying. She finally had enough, and smacked him one. Findus ran back to CatMom’s room, and hid under her chair where he hides after an altercation with Goo. He’s since moved to his safe place between the chair and the dresser, behind the radiator space heater. Dinner time is at four o’clock, so he’ll come out in about 20 minutes. All the cats will eat together.
I have no idea why, but when Kasya pounces on Buddy, she has a weird tendency to try to chew on his throat. He rather obviously disapproves of this, but is a lot more polite about pushing her away from him to get room to leave than I would expect. I keep telling her one of these days, he’s going to lose patience and whomp the hell out of her, but I don’t think she believes me.
I’ve seen that ‘chewing on the throat’ move in friendly wrestling games.
A lot of the moves in those games mimic genuine attacks, including attacks on large prey. Do they wash each other first, and/or at intervals during the game? I’ve come to think of that sort of washing as the equivalence of human boxers shaking hands before a bout — a statement that ‘although I’m about to try to get your throat in my jaws or my claws in your belly, it’s OK, it’s only a game and I’m not really trying to kill you.’
I don’t think I’ve seen licking during these wrestling matches, but I’m also not hearing growling, hissing, or yowling, so I’m guessing they’re playing, or at least not seriously intending harm to each other. I do hear the occasional grumbly sound from Buddy like he is getting a little irritated with Kasya.
He’s about 10yo, she’s about 5mo (I think, I plan to ask the clinic vet for a better estimate when I take her in for her spay Monday). He’s not really used to having a rowdy kid around the house.
Seems entirely normal to me. I wouldn’t worry even about an occasional growl, hiss, or yowl when one cat has had enough or one accidentally hurts the other; as long as there’s not a lot of that and neither is spending most of their time hiding from the other.
Generally no hiding, and I’ve seen voluntary curling up near enough to touch. They also have a fondness for sandwiching me when I’m the only human in the bed (they apparently think it’s a bit crowded if DH is there too).
Those cats like each other.
Kasya’s two days post-spay, and I think the surgery slowed her down about as long as the drugs took to wear off. She flatly refused to wear the recovery suit I bought her, and turns out to be a bit of an escape artist when it comes to being dressed.
She’s older than I had estimated, with clinic staff putting her at 8 months (I’d thought 5). She did turn out to be in heat, so it’s a good thing I hadn’t let her outside for several weeks, and that her big brother is a TNR graduate.