I have 500 cats now. Actually I only have three, but that's borderline crazy-cat-lady. I brought Marzipan up from San Diego this weekend. As you probably know, she was Mom's cat, and she's quite beautiful and intelligent, but she's also a crazy wild child. The whole drive up she was like a gremlin in a box, crying and shaking the bars of her cat carrier like a prison cell. She even managed to scratch me, and put a snag in my sweater sleeve with her long white arms flailing through the grating. Twice I pulled over to see if she was okay. When I let her out of the carrier, she was the sweetest little cuddle-bug, all purrs and head-bonks. But then the gremlin returned. It was a harrowing drive to say the least.
She's had a crash-course in socialization these past few weeks, living next door with 2 people and 3 other cats until I was ready to bring her to my apartment with other people and other cats. I think it did her good. And she's a strong, smart cat, so I know she'll be okay, but will I be okay? Xander is very curious about her, and keeps creeping back to the kitchen where she's sequestered. Growling and hissing ensues, but I'm the one that keeps getting bit and scratched. Little devil! Zoe seems basically oblivious. Maybe she's too old and raggedy to care. I hope to take down the barrier this weekend when I'm able to be present for any prolonged interaction opportunities. Fingers crossed that I'm the only one who bleeds. Maybe I should treat myself to some edible marzipan to help me get through this stressful time.