Shhh. I’m writing this while both boys are at large. That’s to say, Bugs has retired to Fang’s bed, and Fang is somewhere not in Base Camp.
Round Two was me solo, sans Teresa, this afternoon. This encounter was by and large soft, slow, almost dull. Bugsy was sleepy. He seemed bored. Absolutely no Peacemaker required (but this was after I ordered another big bottle, just in case). Fang was very interested in everything, including Bugs. But because Bugs was so not into it, really the two had very little to do with each other. It was touching to see how respectful and mannerly Fangie was. The boys touched noses numerous times, smelled each other’s hiney, and so forth, but really Fang had to content himself with investigating this room, while Bugs went to that room, and round and round we go. At one point Bugs spent so long in Base Camp, I wondered whether I’d have to roust him in time to go to work. Base Camp. Doubtless reeking of Fangie. Do any of you find that strange? Why there? In the end he left on his own accord.
Here’s Bugs at the closing bell, after I deposited Fang back in Base Camp. In Fang’s bed, of all things. Again, why? (Or why ask why, I mean, we are talking about cats after all but I can’t help myself.) Trying to own it for himself? Was he despondent? I thought maybe. He’s eaten just one scant mouthful of real food all day today.
I came back from work intending to do trade-the-treat through the cracked Base Camp door again – but Bugs, reaching through with a gentle paw, seemed interested this time. So I opened the door, and there we were in Round Three. There were a couple of baps and whaps from the Bugster, but no hissing, no ears back, no blood, nothing serious. I do believe that part of the time, the two were playing a chase game. I also played our customary games, with one boy and then the other. They weren’t into playing with each other, or I should say Bugs wasn’t into playing with Fangie, but they played separately with me, in the same room as each other, and I count that as progress.
It’s three hours into Round Two as I write. The state of play now is that Bugs is crashed out in Fang’s bed, and Fang is still
investigating knocking things over. Or, as of now, he’s sprawled out chewing on the raffia mat right next to me, as I type this. Or, here he is on the cube. Owning it.