Cats 2: Electric Boogaloo

Continued from here.

Looking back, I think Jamie called the vet every day and asked if Kisa's brother was ready to be picked up. Don't get me wrong, she loved having Kisa around. Whenever she wasn't calling the vet, she was feeding Kisa, holding Kisa, petting Kisa, taking pictures of Kisa, and/or talking about Kisa to anyone who would dare listen. Still, I think that knowing Kisa's brother was still in a cage in a sterile vet's office was getting to her. Jamie wanted to bring him home.

And when the vet finally said the boy kitten was ready to go, Jamie couldn't leave the house fast enough. Well, she did stop just long enough to ask me if I wanted to go too.

No, I didn't want to go too, but if I'd learned anything in our three years together, it was that doing things I didn't want to do was the only way to have even the smallest chance of getting some of that sweet, sweet. It's usually a fool's errand (I'll just end up begging anyway), but if men never did things they really didn't want to do for the sole purpose of maybe getting laid, there would be no such thing as romance.

Think about it.

So I tagged along. I even waited with Jamie for about five minutes before I got tired of that crap and told her I was driving to the Target down the street.

"But what am I gonna do when they give him to me? I'll have to wait outside."

"Yeah."

I'd forgotten my credit card at home, so I didn't even get to buy what I wanted, which is what's really important.

Anywho, Jamie was ready and waiting outside with cat carrier in hand when I got back. Good, because that sun was hot and I didn't want to run the car's A/C for too long. Gas is expensive, you know. Soon we were on our way. It was a short drive, but Jamie noted more than once that he was much quieter than his sister had been. Kisa didn't like the unknown, Jamie told me. Her brother seemed almost bored. This, by the way, was our first indication that Cat #2 was very different from Cat #1.

At home, Jamie put the carrier in the middle of the living room, gate up, and brought Kisa over for him to see. She wanted to bring him something familiar, I suppose, despite the above paragraph. Then she opened the carrier, pulled him out, and held him high. It was the first time I'd heard her call him by his name:

Kyo.

I think he and I are very similar. It takes him a while to warm up to anyone. Meanwhile, Kisa is a pouncer, like her mommy, Jamie. Kyo is a thinker with a tendency to watch from the sidelines, just like me. Like me, he's been branded a recluse, the kind of cat who could spend hours alone in his favorite crate (or maybe sitting in front of his computer if he could blog). Not that we're not social, mind you, we're both just inside cats. I love to wrap myself in a warm blanket, he loves a tall heap of freshly laundered clothes.

He prefers words over action. Basically, he'll talk your ears off. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back. He meows, I meow back.

I finally cave in, defeated by a cat. Again.

He's a talker, indeed, but when action calls, Kyo-chan answers. The first time I ever saw Kisa jump her brother, he seemed unfettered. She just rolled right over him, landing on her paws, of course. Never daunted (or tired), Kisa again got into position. She leapt high and decended gracefully, but this time his paws were ready, and they tumbled together across the floor. Ever since, they've been a purring, hissing, fighting, loving, random, happy, rolling ball of white and orange fur--an electric boogaloo.

They love each other, those two. All fears of Kisa ever being lonely vanished by the end of Kyo's first day. They spend 99.9% of their waking time together, and a good part of their sleep time too. They share their toys without claim or animosity. They fight, they claw, and they bite each other with love. As quickly as they pounce, they cuddle, licking each other's fur until they both fall asleep.

They love their mommy. She is the only one willing to empty their litter box, after all. They both love my lap. They both love to lay across the keyboard of Jamie's laptop just as I'm starting to type. Heck, I don't even try to get any homework or blogging done in the living room anymore. They love puffs of fuzz, and toys, and our pantry, and that area behind our living room television. They're even warming up to that damn dog.

And they are both loved.

I guess I'm trying to say that there's a lot of new love in our home. I feared the worst, but adopting two cats was a good idea, after all. I'm glad I thought of it.

Next up: That Damn Dog?