Pretty soon I will be screaming gibberish and throwing cats at passersby. My son warned me. He said 'Mum, stop at two. It is a well-known fact that women over 60 with more than two cats, are in want of sanity.' He is like that, my son. Straight to the point. He also knows many episodes of The Simpsons by heart. Which is a worry. And ripe for riposte. However, he is faster than I. And to be truthful, Maude, I really don't give a damn!
Needless to say, I am now hosting three cats in my courtyard apartment, having taken over the care of my daughter's cat, Cooper, on Sunday. I knew it was coming. Russian Blues are fairly highly-strung and do not take easily to playing second fiddle. When the baby came along, my daughter was around much more, but paid even less attention to him. He took it out on her, lying in wait and biting her legs. Kirsten was terrified that he would do something similar to Alannah. It could not continue.
I have him inside for a week to imprint the apartment and our routine on him, if possible. I am also handling him as much as possible and making sure I know what riles him and avoid that. I want him to get used to my style which is very hands on, with much 'chucking' around the head.
The hassle with keeping him in, of course, is the impact it has on the other two. They are not allowed their usual freedom to come and go at will at all hours of the day and night. They have to ask to be let out - and in. They are coping. Just.