4.28.2011

From the front lines: life as a 2-cat family.

First things first: our expectations.

We expected higher vet expenses to budget for. That we'd go through more food. That we'd need to scoop the litter box daily. That we'd have more fur flying around.

We expected snuggling brother cats though, a younger buddy for Oscar who would get him moving a little more often and provide company while we work long hours and travel all the time. We expected adorable photos of two cats sleeping curled up, Oscar giving a kitten a bath, two buddies crowding the bed but so cute that it didn't matter.

Oscar.

Ollie.


Second things second: our realities after 9 days.

1. There is litter everywhere. EV.ER.Y.WHERE. And where there is not litter? Furballs, tall as tumbleweeds, rolling through the apartment. We have to brush our feet off before we get in bed because of the littery-furry-mix that sticks to them. Does it sounds gross? OH IT IS.

2. They are not yet friends. They're no longer enemies and most importantly, Ollie is no longer the wuss who hides under the covers if Oscar so much as looks in his direction. But they continue to have little scuffles, sometimes at 4am (WOOO. THAT'S FUN.) and while it's mostly playful, we still monitor to make sure no one dies.

Carnage in the living room this morning.


3. Where Oscar has been the perfect first pet (no scratching couch, doesn't jump on furniture, eats/pees where he should, etc.), Ollie is... well, he's a little special so far. Here's what we woke up to this morning:


How does a cat manipulate blinds?! He also trashed the bathroom the other night, scratching the hell out of the toilet paper and spreading litter around like confetti.

And then last night, we were sitting on the couch watching TV when the cats got into one of their tumbling matches. They wrestled across the room until they came to a crashing halt into the end table, sending a glass of water crashing to the floor. "DAMN IT!" we yelled, and banished them both far away from the crime scene while we toweled up 8 oz of water.

Two hours later, the SAME thing happens with a full glass of water on Chris' nightstand. He flew up out of bed, screamed about the wet bed and the damn cats and I couldn't help it- I burst out laughing. I'd had a glimpse of what my future husband will look like in 15 years, when the neighborhood kids are on our lawn or our own kids are making a racket. All he needed was an old ratty robe and a rolled up newspaper and the cliche would be complete.

Here Ollie watches birds, flicks his tail and chatters:


Ollie watches birds from Jen Epting on Vimeo.

So we're hanging in. We worry about Oscar and we worry about Ollie and then sometimes we pull one onto our laps and give him some individual attention. We trust that they will continue making progress towards becoming good cat friends and only fight like raccoons once a month.

That could happen, right? (Right?)

P.S. Because I'm that cat lady now, I've been posting daily pix of the boys on Flickr. Here's the set!

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