In my grief stupor, I took in this medically fragile and half-toothless cat last weekend to see if he might integrate with the household.
His name is Gerald and his person up and died on him a little while back, leaving him homeless.
Gerald is a love bug but it remains to be seen whether it’ll work out. I’m conflicted!
He’s had a rough few months, I think. A friend was fostering and about to return him to the shelter bc he couldn’t cope with her dog, who was too enthusiastic. She invited me to meet him.
Needless to say I returned home with Gerald that very day. My spouse, who’d been in Texas for a couple of weeks, wasn’t thrilled with my unilateral decisionmaking process, and who can blame him. He has since returned home and safe to say is smitten.
POV: spouse.
He’s not one bit aggressive or antagonistic towards our cats, but he gets super excited and paces, trilling, like LOOK AT THIS! AND THAT! AND OH MY FUCKING GOD CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?!!!
So we’ve been keeping him isolated for the most part, with short ventures outside his room.
Today is the first time he’s spent the morning outside of his confined space. He finally calmed down from being overstimulated and has applied to be my new coworker.
The automatic feeder has been a godsend, literally: the behaviorist we’re consulting— yes, we’re those pet owners—advises us that it’s best for food delivery to be considered “an act of God.”
Everyone loved Junior (no one more so than me), and it is gratifying if bittersweet to see how Gerald’s parasocial relationships are developing, too.
His actual coat continues to get softer and sleeker, and we talk to each other all day long.