"What do you expect me to do about this?"
Brendan reluctantly prepares for a day of kitten sitting.
We weren't planning on going to a three cat household. What happened is my best buddy, rascal and companion of fourteen and a half years, Finnegan, died suddenly of kidney failure. (A story I will cover in another post) I was bereft and sad, dragging around for four months. Brendan, honestly, was quite content to be an only cat. He was getting a lot of attention and Finnegan, his brother, had been a thorn in his side for years. But Brendan is O's cat and devoted soul mate and much as I loved him, I was catless. Then the election came and went and I was even more depressed so O announced it was time to make a visit to the pet shelter. I was immediately chosen ( also another story) by the fuzzy furball we named Fergus and we took the little tyke home.
To a glaring reception.
Brendan was not pleased. We should have known this, shouldn't we? And Fergus wanted Brendan to be 1: Mommy, 2:Play thing, 3: Punching Bag and Climbing Tree, 4: Buddy and Sleeping Pillow.
Brendan was not interested. However, he is a wise and understanding fellow with sixteen years under his belt and I think he realized I needed a kitten and he would live with it. How ever, he did give the multi-ounce furball a good swift whack a few times to teach him who was boss and we hoped that would do it.
But Fergus wouldn't give up. He wanted someone to play with and darn if Brendan just wasn't the most attractive guy around. I was spending hours playing kitten games but it became obvious.
For family harmony we needed a playmate.
So we went to the other local shelter and brought home a sleepy, amiable bundle we named Silas.
Stay tuned for tomorrow's post: Silas Arrives.
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