What a difference, between introducing Fangie and introducing Barney. It’s only the morning of the third day Barney’s been here. No late-night door-excavations, no howling, no hissing – and only two incidents where (sleep-dazed) I wasn’t sure whether Bugsy was thumping on the floor to express his masculinity – or passing by Base Camp and scaring himself. No matter. I got a reasonable night’s sleep.
Did I mention that, thanks to Teresa’s wise foresight, I asked Foster-mom to clip Barney’s claws while he was still at ease in his old home? Did I mention that mom just went at Barnes with the clippers and chop-chop, the thing was done? Without aid of any fuss, muss, treats, or cajolery? What a cat this is!
This morning, here’s Bugs, chowing happily (around the stones put there to make him eat more slowly). You can perhaps make Barney out, just the other side of the grill. Curtain’s pulled away from the door; Barney in more-or-less full scent and view. No problem.
Remember Poop Vigil 2012? On Fang’s arrival, Bugsy so upset he was throwing up for three weeks, nor would he produce the caboose, resulting in an anxious visit to the vet, X-rays, and a threatened evacuation? Which was avoided only by stool-softeners and intensive I forget what-all else (it all came back when I found the above link . . . . )
Like I say. What a difference.
Here’s Barnes in Base Camp this morning, on a rare moment where there’s actually space between him and me. That’s my heel at the extreme left.
Didn’t last long.
And let me close with dear Bugsy.
Not that he isn’t his usual edgy-alert snoopervisory self, on the brink of jumping up to investigate something untoward on Out-TV –
But we also have moments like this. Relax-a-Cat.
We are going for the site-swap next, and let it be soon. I want Barney’s big self out of that cooped-up little room, and the boys working things out in the wide open spaces.