. . . only to find Mike and Jeannie. M and J apparently think that three cats beat a pair. I believe they're confusing cat ownership with poker, a topic dogs know something about.
In any case this could explain the appearance of "Rocky" in our household three weeks ago. Rocky is just a nickname. His complete name is Ba-rocky H. Obama, partly because of this sexy monogram on his side:
He seems to be an okay kitty--at least for now. And if ever a cat needed a good home, this one did. I just hope his inner feline dorkiness doesn't start blossoming as he gets older, the way it did with Willis and Arlo. (I can see that happening, since Rocky's already pretty feisty. He's the first--and so far the only--cat in the house who makes himself at home in my bed. When I told him cats couldn't get in my bed without permission, he said, "Yes, we can!")
Rocky probably isn't a true feral, but a roadside "dumpee" whose moron of an owner dropped him off to fend for himself, along with at least one litter-mate who never made it across the highway. Rocky soon joined up with Penny and Pumpkin's feral colony in the woods behind McDonald's. If it had been any of the others that wandered into J's trap on the morning of July 18th, (s)he would now be residing at a local shelter.
When he came to live with us, Rocky was about 10-12 weeks old and weighed just 2 pounds, 10 ounces. This was barely half of what he needs to weigh before he can get a rabies vaccination. For the first few days and nights, he stayed in a big dog kennel in J's office. He didn't care for it very much. You've heard of climbing the walls?
And he sometimes confused his potty with his bed.
But at least he was safe. Soon he had the run of the house in the daytime, but still spent his nights in the kennel. Now he only goes there if he needs "time out," which is about once a day.
Rocky has a lot of grit and doesn't mind mixing it up with Arlo and Willis. Sometimes it's hard to tell if they're fighting or just playing hard. M says it's usually the latter, and when I try to separate them it often turns out I didn't need to. It's been confusing to say the least.
Here's an example with Arlo. This definitely looks like a case that could use some intervention, right?
So I step in like Rin Tin Tin. (Google him.)
But then I find that Arlo is just trying to give the little eejit a bath.
Oddly, Willis doesn't fight with Rocky nearly as much as Arlo does. It seems out of character for cranky old Willis to have a friend to play with. We're all hoping it will last.
Rocky likes for people to hold him, which is not exactly a feral trait. Here he is with my sister Bonnie.
And with my sister Jenny.
One thing Rocky and I have in common is that we both love to watch TV--though like J, I tend to watch it with my eyes closed, absorbing the action through my other senses. Rocky, on the other hand, stares daggers at the screen. Here he is the other night just as he noticed that his favorite show, "The Newsroom," was on.
In a flash, he was captivated. He settled in to watch. (I know he's on my bed again. This time I gave him permission. Yes, I did!)
But he couldn't take it lying down. It was just too exciting! He moved closer . . .
And closer . . .
Man, these are some great seats! Wonder if I've got time to go get popcorn?
If I could just get in there, I'll bet I could help them.
Don't fall for it, Lisa! This guy is toying with you like a catnip mouse!
Welcome to the family, Ba-rocky. You're a riot.
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