Can’t believe I haven’t blogged for almost three weeks.  Life gets complicated sometimes. Getting over some sort of allergy/pollen related bronchitis. First time I’ve been sick with anything for over a year, but it got me good.

Being home sick has allowed me more time to observe my feline family and I’m constantly amazed at how they interact with each other.  Bonds are formed, cliques develop, then collapse. 

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Since Bart, now called Simon (I think that’s the name that will stick since it’s the only one he will respond to) has arrived, he’s been having a struggle fitting in.  He’s used to being his own purrson, if you will, going by his own rules, which means basically doing whatever he wanted.  Now he’s in a house, with rules and he doesn’t get why he gets scolded when he pees on the kitchen floor, or bullies one of the females. 

supper.jpgBut he’s formed a kind of truce/friendship with RJ and Supper (it’s a long story), my two other males. That’s Supper, in the photo. This afternoon, I found Simon and Supper asleep together in the spare bedroom, curled up next to each other as if they were littermates.  All three were born and raised “in the streets” so to speak, and were adopted as adults by moi.  So, maybe they sit on the back deck at night comparing life stories, who knows, but they seem to understand that about one another and it has made for a kind of kinship between the three.  Tommy, my fourth male, was raised by me from a kitten and he doesn’t have anything to do with any of them. 

RJ and Simon will hang together outside. Inside, Simon will sleep on the recliner and RJ will sleep on the back of the recliner. 

Back to Simon’s adjustments to being a housecat.  I think because he didn’t get much affection from people as a kitten, there’s a kind of disconnect.  He’s not overtly affectionate and when he tries, he’s rough. For example, he’ll jump on my bed at night and purr, then attack my feet and really bite hard through the comforter.  He doesn’t mean to be mean.  He doesn’t really come asking for affection or give it. He just sort of is there.   

He likes to bully the females, too except for Baby who absolutely cannot abide him.  She attacks him the minute he comes into the house.  Don’t know what it is about him, but she cannot stand him on any level.  He wants to be the dominant male, but he doesn’t have the right and I can’t let him go there because it would create too much stress.   So he’s learning… slowly.  

Then there’s Rosie and her son Rusty.  He’s two years old now, but she will fret over him if he’s not home and in the house at night.  She’ll go between the front and back doors and look out the window and mew.  Then when he finally comes in, she stops.  They will sleep ‘in eachother’s arms’ on my bed at night and no amount of my tossing or turning or kicking will move them or wake them.

i-love-rustys-tail.jpgThe three youngest females, Mia, Haley and Lily, look up to Rusty as the young hunka hunka burnin’ love stud muffin (he’s neutered) and anything he does is wonderful as far as they’re concerned.  They will follow him all over, whether in the house or outside.  He takes it all in stride as any hunk would. Yep, he’s got groupies.  In the morning, each one will go ly down next to him on the bed and he’ll put his arm around their neck and wash their faces.  Then he’ll play with them a little.  You can tell they’re thinking, ‘He is soo cool.’  He’s the Sanjaya of my little feline family, I think. 

Need to get back at this blogging stuff on a regular basis once I start feeling better.   A lot to catch up on.

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