We all need a safe place. Someplace to hide from the nasty. A place to lick our wounds and gather our courage. Even a cat.
With the addition of a fourth cat, there is chaos in the house. Not as much as you would expect but there is some.
Gracie (new cat) is cautious but not shy. She hasn’t hissed since entering this rather large cage that we all live in. She had never been in a cage with an upstairs and a basement. So much to explore.
Some of the other cats did give a hiss of “not too close” or “stop smelling my butt!”
In Miss Manner’s book of cat etiquette, you cannot sniff the caboose first. There has to be some casual conversation, perhaps a coffee meet or at least a drink.
Some cats are more brazen and jump right in or stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.
There have been no rumbles (for which I am eternally grateful). Gracie has her own room. She spent three days there isolated until we were sure she wasn’t bringing intestinal parasites along for the ride. It also gave her an opportunity to “feel safe.”
It’s downright scary being yanked from a place where you are happy (and she at a minimum comfortable). Then you are taken to a new place with new scary cats. I wonder if cats get homesick. They sure don’t like change.
The door was opened a crack earlier this week and she ventured forth. She did increasingly larger investigative circles always returning back to her “safe place.”
She found another “safe place” on the first floor. She likes the dining room chairs. It’s wonderful. They are under the table so no one can “blindside her” and she can move from chair to chair as needed. None of the cats or humans bother her there.
Other than intense staring (mostly from one-eyed Morgan) only Hazel will give her a minor (very minor) chase. Not to worry. Hazel is quite overweight and couldn’t catch a geriatric mouse in a cardiac arrest episode. She fears sharing her food more than sharing her house.
Tomorrow it will be a week. All good so far. Do you have a safe place?