The Empress and Her Father, Part II

 

I didn't know what to do or make of her yet, really. 

We'd haphazardly set up the bedroom for her to be sequestered -- it's always a good idea to isolate kittens from the rest of the house, as well as other cats, until they can get a full vet checkup after adoption. Her first vet appointment isn't until the 4th -- given the holiday it was the soonest we could get her in -- and until then we planned for her to be closed up in our master bedroom, much like we did with Hank when we got him.

While Hank was semi-destructive -- liked to explore, chew on wires, climb things, hide in places he shouldn't be hiding -- Empress (or Emmy, as I call her) is, so far, really none of those things. She immediately found a nice, quiet cuddle spot under the bed and basically stayed put. I would go in and check on her once an hour or so, hold her and get her used to me, and then I'd put her back down and she'd either go back under the bed to sleep or she'd go to the food bowl and eat -- and I'd quietly slip out of the room.

She's the most beautiful longhaired cat I've ever seen. And she is intensely loving and cuddly. She loves being held, loves being stroked and scratched under the chin and behind the ears, having her long hair smoothed out -- all of it. She tried to climb up on my shoulder the first time I held her -- she's going to be a shoulder cat. A parrot kitty.

But she is a needy little thing.

I went downstairs to feed the other cats, and the fish, and about five minutes later I heard her crying.

"Mew! Mew! Mew! Mew!" almost like a chant.

I went back upstairs to find her sitting in the middle of the room, staring at me like I'd personally offended her by leaving. 

She then ran back under the bed and stayed just out of my reach, as if to say "I didn't need you, I just wanted you to know I was here."

I let her be after a few minutes of talking sweetly to her and rubbing her with my fingertips -- that's as close as she'd let me get -- before leaving the room again. 

When I stepped out of the room, Pete and Hank were waiting for me, guarding the bedroom door. They knew something was in there, something that smelled like them and sounded like them. 

I went back into the room, picked her up in my arms, and carried her into the hallway so that the boys could see her. Pete got excited; he got this magically happy look on his face like "It's a new baby! Can I see her? Can I lick her?"

Hank was not enthused. Hank saw her, narrowed his eyes and glared, and then growled. I have never heard Hank growl before. Then he hissed, loudly.

In response, Emmy hissed and growled back at him, louder and higher-pitched, and then turned to look at me as if to say "did you see what that little orange fucker just did?"

Hank stomped downstairs, growling and grumbling (yes, literally) the whole way. 

I put Emmy back into the room and she was fine the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, when Daisy finally got home. Pete stood guard outside the bedroom door, so desperate to see the new little furball with the attitude and the big eyes.

Daisy brought home pizza for dinner, and we ate. Hank mostly avoided us. It was very clear that he was not happy. I told Daisy that I thought it was because he knew he would no longer be the baby. Daisy disagreed and said she didn't think he could reason like that (she's likely right) and that it was a territory thing, more than likely.

I will remind everyone here that upon meeting Hank, all three of the older cats hissed and ran off, and our introductions to him were slow and metered out, only a few minutes at a time, before that became an hour or so, then two hours, then he was finally given free reign of the house. 

When Daisy got home, we found that Empress had puked on the bed. It was just water and I assumed it's because she was dehydrated and drank a lot of water when she had free access to it in the bowl in the room. We washed the sheets and she seemed fine. When we came back upstairs after dinner, she'd puked a second time -- still water, but this time on Daisy's pillow and on the new sheets. We washed those too. Daisy looked it up and apparently after female cats were fixed, it wasn't uncommon for them to vomit a few times, sometimes for a week, as the surgery anesthesia wears off and they heal. I seem to recall Maggie and Sadie doing the same thing for a bit, but that was so very long ago now. 

I also considered the trauma factor -- in the span of about two weeks she'd been rescued, fostered, taken to the humane society, spayed, put in multiple cages in multiple rooms, put in boxes and cars and had been driven around to various places, and then hastily adopted -- put into another box in another car -- and quickly was taken to a bedroom and was immediately isolated. She'd been through a lot.

Daisy showered, and I held Empress on my chest on the bed for quite some time. She was very content and very happy -- it is very clear that she likes attention and likes people, and even more apparent that she adores being held and cuddled. I'm still trying to gauge her personality. She is very playful, but very snuggly and wants your entire attention span. She likes belly rubs, but we have to be careful because of her still-healing incision. She is not yet a goblin, though she is inquisitive and likes to explore. 

Daisy came back into the room after her shower and laid down on the bed with us. Emmy nuzzled in and began licking my lips and nose -- just like Hank used to do with Daisy. I could have cried again. When she finished, I said to Daisy out of the side of my mouth "you picked the right cat."

I think she's happy.