JOURNAL 1: Tucker
October 15, 1997. I brought Tucker home from the Humane Society around 4:30 this afternoon. A pale orange tiger, he is around four or five months old. Thus far, he has calmly surveyed Phoebe and Riley while having a good dinner and getting his chin drenched drinking water. He has managed a couple cat naps between bouts of trying to make friends with Phoebe. She growls. Riley isn't growling. He's doing one of those whines that is almost too high-pitched to hear. I wish!
October 16, 1997. He's a great cricket hunter.
October 17, 1997. Today was the "free" check up covered in the $35 adoption fee at the Humane Society. Which means my bill only came to $76. Our vet raved about Tucker's disposition. Actually, she threatened to catnap him. He is the most incredibly mellow cat. Rather, he was until she took him to the treatment area and cleaned his ears. I think the phrase "highly pissed off" may be an understatement to cover his reaction to that indignity. And, by the way, he's a whopping 5 pounds and his age estimate has been revised upward to between nine months to a year old.
October 18, 1997. Don't you love Saturday, family mornings in bed? There is nothing like having one cat lying on your supine body and another beside you making threatening noises--while both are very near
your face. But actually, they're adjusting to one another even more quickly than I anticipated. Riley only did the eager whine the first evening. Tucker isn't a yawn to him by any means, but it's the more normal, rambunctious, let's-play attitude now. And Phoebe. Well, Miss Priss is adjusting. The first day was predominantly growls. The second day, hisses. We have now graduated to "back-off" noises when Tucker decides her tail looks like a good toy or he takes her chair in front of the bird-watching window. (There are now two chairs by the window--although Tucker has proven he is small enough he can sit on the frame separating the upper part of the window from the lower part.) But she can't fool me. She'll be playing with him soon.
October 19, 1997. Two fleas. ::sigh:: I don't have a lot of experience with fleas, but I suspect "ignore it and it will go away" is not the policy to follow in this case. Too bad the pills I'm fighting to get down him for worms won't take care of fleas, too. On a brighter note, Tucker and Phoebe were chasing through the house this morning. She has been so much easier than I expected, I almost blush. By the way, did I mention Tucker's eyes are the same yellow-green as my sister's? He also has a ringed tail that would put a raccoon to shame. The latter, of course, not a resemblance to my sister.
October 20, 1997. Not only a lap cat, but Tucker likes to drape himself over my shoulder. He then tips his head back and rubs noses with me. Or pats my face with a gentle paw, keeping his claws retracted. He can make typing quite a challenge.
October 21, 1997. I am already leaving the critters alone together without confining Tucker in a separate room. It's like he has been with us all of our lives.
October 28, 1997. I thought I was gaining someone Phoebe would wash instead of grooming my eyebrows. Silly, silly me. Instead I gained someone who likes to lick my nose. Hmmm, if I get another cat, I may never need to wash my face again.
November 7, 1997. Oh No! He climbs trees well. At least, the ficus in the living room. I bought a throw-away camera to take his picture. Unfortunately it has 27 exposures on it, so this could take a while.
07 Nov 97
