I meant to post about this and I wish I had a picture but I was afraid to startle him. And I wanted him to get down and fast.

You know the hood over the stovetop, where the fan and the light live?

I came into the kitchen a couple of nights ago and there was Vlad, spread out like Spiderman on it, looking over the edge. I showed him the water bottle and he was all, "Yes, I know, just a second, I have to figure out how to do this..." and eventually hopped down and thence to the floor.

I sometimes wish I knew what was going on in his mind. It's a good thing he's cute.

( As long as I'm engaging in picspam--here are a few of Coney and Vladimir! )

You may note that, while Vlad seems capable of embarrassment, Coney has no shame, or dignity, or sense of proportion. Which is why we love him (and his tummy.)

1) Last night Vlad was sitting on an end table when Bojo jumped up to say hello. Immediate ferocious growling from Vlad. Bojo reacted by going over and industriously sniffing his face. Which is pretty much how Coney handled episodes of growling from Vlad. Either the growling is getting less fierce or else nobody takes Vlad seriously.

2) Coney and Bojo have advanced to the point of wrestling, but I notice that when Bojo pounces on Coney, Coney retains his feet. Which is only interesting if you know that when Coney is pounced upon by kittens, he immediately keels over in a "you got me" fashion. Come to think of it, I don't think he used to keel over for Kinsey, either. Clearly, Coney knows (a) who to humour, and (b) who might accidentally disembowel him.

3) Hertel is good for removing stains from carpeting, including the blood and guts of Coney's prey. By which I mean he got raspberry juice all over the floor the other night, but Hertel got the stain out. Hey, he might be a vegetarian, but he still has fangs!

Despite having only three of them.

Because there is a new application inside Facebook called (of course) "Catbook." And I added it, and then created profiles for Coney, Vlad, and Bojo.

I know, I know, I'm embarrassed. But I notice I'm not deleting the profiles.

Yes, I'm talking about the cats. It's been a while since I posted about the cats. In fact, the last time I did I believe Bojo was still kind of throwing his weight around, Coney had a stress-induced eye ulcer and scratches in his face, and Vlad was growling and hissing.

Well. Things are beginning to show signs of settling down. However, it is indeed true that you reap what you sow, because now Bojo has decided he likes his new brothers and thinks they would be fun to play with. Vlad, who really has no sense of humour at all, reacts to Bojo's mock-charges the same way he once reacted to Coney's: he hisses furiously and takes refuge on top of the fridge. Bojo could totally fly up there after him, but so far he's restrained himself. Thank God.

Coney--you recall that Coney initially tried to be friendly. Well, of course he did! But that was before he got scratched. In his face. And now he wants nothing to do with Bojo, and growls whenever he comes near. Or, actually that's not quite true: Coney is fine as long as Bojo approaches him slowly and carefully and makes no sudden or aggressive movements. But anything like a fast move and Coney growls and then dives under the dining room table. Bojo shows signs of being very tired of the whole forcefield situation, but he's at least respecting the hiding-behind-the-chair thing.

What's really funny is, when they make eye contact Bojo looks away. He seems to be doing his best to convince Coney that he's a nice cat with honourable intentions. Coney keeps replying, "Yes, but you scratched me! In my face!" I don't know if it's so much that he's carrying a grudge as that he hasn't gotten over the shock yet. I mean, despite the fact Bojo is being really pretty submissive these days, Coney still tiptoes around him like he's afraid to be eaten.

With that said, for some reason Coney overcame his fears and got in bed with me on Saturday morning, while Bojo was right there, and had a snuggle.

I think we'll eventually get over this, it's just going to take a while. Indications are that patience will be rewarded. I just hope Bojo knows that.

So, just when I had started to think everything had settled down--the last couple of nights I've had cats triangulated on the easy chair and both ends of the couch, quite peacefully--there was another flareup this morning. Bojo was in the bedroom chatting with me (he's very talky) when Vlad went past in the hall, headed for the food dishes.

Bojo flew off the bed and charged. There was a flurry, some yowling, and Vlad fled. I caught up to everyone in the kitchen, Vlad was on the divider between the kitchen and dining room and Bojo was obviously telling him not to come down if he knew what was good for him. Coney, in the big rocking chair, just kept his head down.

So I chased Bojo under the couch, not as a training maneuvre but out of sheer bad temper. Yeah, I know they're settling the peck order and just being cats, but I was mighty pissed off.

Seeing Vlad in the character of innocent victim is, I'll admit, a new one for me!

Incidentally, when I got Coney home from the vet last night, Vlad ran away from the smell of vets but Bojo wandered over and sniffed noses with him. ("You doin' all right, man?" "Yeah, I'm cool.") It was really funny and quite reassuring. Of course, later Coney remembered he fears Bojo, but Bojo doesn't seem to have anything at all against Coney.

Mind you, why would he?

...or at least that's my coworker's explanation for why Coney feels safe under there. Regardless, Bojo spent the night in general population and when I woke up this morning Bojo was in the back bedroom sleeping on the spare bed (an uninflated air bed, but he'd found a spot that wasn't lumpy) and Coney was in bed with me.

Vlad was on the fridge, but I still see this as progress. At least nobody got into a fight.

It's about time for some pictures of the new guy.

( Funny, he doesn't LOOK like he'd terrorize anybody. )

Don't look for snuggling pictures any time soon. Although a few months ago, who who would have expected these?

( Vlad isn't even embarrassed anymore. )

So I guess anything is possible.

The whole business of introducing a new cat to your current cats is always a little fraught. In the case of Bojo, he's an older fellow, very sweet with people, but pretty clear on how things are supposed to go with other cats. Vladimir, interestingly, is inclined to avoid the new cat--he was like that with Angel, and he's like that with Bojo.

Coney is inclined to amble up and be friendly. This is not always interpreted the way he expects it to be.

So last night when I got home during the blackout I figured I might as well let Bojo out overnight. I don't leave him loose during the day because if anything broke out among the cats I want to be there to hear it and react. But once they start to get used to each other I don't mind getting up to referee.

Bojo thought this was great--jumped up on the bed and purred, and snuggled, and walked back and forth, and kneaded with his paws... honestly, it was really cute but after a while I began to perceive that I wasn't going to get much sleep unless he settled down.

And then came the sound of a collar-bell jingling as someone came downstairs. Vlad has long since lost the bell off his collar, so the new arrival had to be Coney.

Jingle jingle jingle.

And Bojo quit purring, sat up tensely--and then shot off the bed like he'd been fired from a cannon and lit out after the interloper. Who ran for his life.

Jinglejinglejingle!

And when they hit the top of the stairs there was a horrible yowling which I figure meant Bojo had run smack into Vlad, who was probably hanging around to see what happened next.

Well. I grabbed my glasses and the flashlight and went upstairs, to find Bojo in stalk mode, Coney hiding under the dining room table (I have no idea why he thinks it's safe under there but it's always his initial choice of hiding place) and Vlad standing a little ways off looking at Bojo as if he was about to launch himself at the new guy in Coney's defense.

[Which is pretty funny, considering when I first got Vlad he tangled with Kinsey after she took offense at his snarling at Coney. (He's also taken her place as the one who follows the vacuum around to make sure it doesn't make a false move.) It's like he's possessed by her ferocious spirit.]

So I grabbed Bojo and explained to him that we have only one rule in our house, and he had just broken it. The rule is, You've got to be nice to Coney. So I put him back in the spare bedroom, and he wasn't pleased. And Coney was too spooked to come downstairs again anyway, at least until this morning.

Cat mingling in the immediate future will be strictly supervised, and I have a water pistol in case I have to explain the One House Rule again. Bojo is a nice cat, and he'll get over this, but in the meantime he's acting like a bully. And that being the case, it's necessary to make sure he doesn't get the opportunity.

There may be no out-overnight privileges for a while yet, either.

Bojo came out for a visit last night, and there was much sniffing. And a little hissing, and a growl or two, and then it was once more established that it doesn't matter that Coney is the biggest cat in the house, if it comes down to macho posturing he is always going to lose. He's not exactly being terrorized by his new brother, but he's learning to keep a respectful distance.

Vlad? Is not pushing the issue, which is good since he and Bojo both seem the type to kick arse if push came to shove and I'd just as soon it didn't. For that reason they are not being left to mingle when I am not home.

This is all going to work out, mind you, it's just that Coney's feelings are slightly hurt at the moment. There's a reason I never let him outside.

Oh, Vlad. You're so not a tough guy after all.

Angel's gone home for a few days to visit her real family. Coney has been checking my pockets diligently to see where I've put her. And Vlad, having just decided he likes the baby sister, is pretty mad at me for taking her away.

Reports from Angel's house tell me that her own brother, Zorro, is so delighted to see her that he's been harassing her continuously. She's been forced to growl at him in an effort to make him give her a moment's peace. I think it was in Huckleberry Finn where I read the phrase, "It'd make a cat laugh." This news did. And just so you know, sagitare, when Vlad laughs he sounds a great deal like Death Of Rats.

...but here are a few pictures I took this morning.








That's Vlad in the black mask. Looks like he's reconciled to the whole baby-sister thing, doesn't he?

I took the boys in for shots over the weekend. Because Coney is an older fellow (thirteen on the 9th of November) I also got some blood tests run to check his organ function (especially, of course, his kidneys.) He purred at the vet, hoping if he was charming enough she wouldn't eat him. Once again, it totally worked. Then the vet handed him off to the tech who was doing the bloodwork, with the comment, "He'll be as good as gold! He's a sweetie!" Off he went, boneless and purring, in the tech's arms.

A minute later I heard one interrogative squeak out of him and a little while later he returned, still boneless and purring, to the tech's comment of, "He was as good as gold! He's a sweetie!"

Ah yes. There is no point having big green eyes unless you're willing to use them.

The vet also figured Vlad is a little older than the vet who originally examined him thought. She also thought he was very sweet. Mind you, he hissed at me when I closed the carrier door on him but--better me than the vet, because I knew he'd get over being mad at me.

Coney? Squawked all the way home (a very short drive) but as soon as I let him out of the carrier he was purring again.

When you find a technique that works, Coney believes in sticking with it.

Which is why I never, never intend to let him outside.

Coney: Well?
Vlad: Um...



Coney: Yes?
Vlad: Uhhh...



Coney: You were saying...?
Vlad: Okay! Fine! We're snuggling! Geez!
Coney: Thank you.

Vlad: We're totally not snuggling!
Coney: Holding paws counts!

I was at Canadian Tire last night looking for a new carafe for my coffee maker (more about that Monday) and happened to spot some nice nylon cat collars with little bells. I took off Coney's old leather one last fall but decided he needed a green one and Vlad a red. (There was also a hot pink one that would have looked lovely on Kinsey.)

When I put Coney's on I realized I should change the character sheet I wrote for him the other day, because he didn't want to wear it and it turns out he handled that particular conflict by pushing my hand with his paw and purring in a protesting fashion.

It also occurs to me that he has at least three very different purrs: the contented being-cuddled purr, the importunate wake-up-and-feed-me purr, and the slightly irritated please-stop-doing-that purr. I can't remember whether this last is the same purr as the one he uttered the time I walked into a dark room and nearly stepped on him, or if the excuse-me-I'm-right-here purr is a fourth one. (You know how they say a Canadian is someone who says "excuse me" if you step on his foot? Like that.)

I did say he was a polite cat.

Incidentally, as soon as the collar was on everything was fine. Vlad, on the other hand, spent a couple of minutes frozen in place because every time he moved there was this weird jingling noise, but he got over that very quickly.

I love these guys.

Edited on Monday to add: I guess I forgot the I'm-a-nice-cat-please-don't-eat-me purr he uses on vets. As proof that it works, Coney has been going to see vets for twelve years and so far not one of them has eaten him! No wonder he sticks to this strategy!

Vladimir: Just so you know, this isn't a snuggle. We're just, um, sharing the same end of the couch.
Coney: Whatever, dude. We are so snuggling!