When K decided to move his family to Manzanillo, Mexico for a year or two, we decided that old Pumpkin shouldn't have to make the trip south into the unknown and instead K brought her to live with us, 1700 miles to the east. He hopped on a plane with his orange cat buddy, and she is settling in now, two weeks later. Life is much better for Pumpkin now. In her former abode, she was beset by young children and younger cats, all of whom are headed to a house near a Pacific coast beach. On the other hand, Miss Tammietta is just coming out of the shock of her long, furry life, but the critters are getting used to each other. Now, instead of hissing when they see each other in the same room, the hissing is reserved for too-close proximity when they snuggle up to us in bed at night.
I like to hop in bed first--it's always a race up the stairs--so I get the best spot, the one with a pillow all to myself. When Joe closes up the house and comes to bed, he is greeted now by me, laughing and wondering what he is going to do. Miss Tammietta is in her favored place at the foot of Joe's side of the bed, and new cat is sprawled in utter contentment where Joe would lie. My husband is a capable man who knows how to negotiate treaties and timetables and plot regression statistics while discoursing on matters of heteroscedasticity, but getting new cat to move over is nearly beyond his powers. Eventually he seizes the advantage and secures a place, and we all go to sleep.
Until the festivities begin. The cats argue now about where each is hiding the other's lipstick.
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