About a week and a half ago we increased our household by two! The main reason I haven’t posted until now is that I couldn’t get good pictures. Well, screw that. Mediocre pics will suffice. The important thing is, kittays!

(Since the new kittays, I’ve obtained another battery charger for my good camera, because the charger and extra battery are still lost in the unpacked offices boxes KEN I’m looking at you. Better pics will follow.)

Here was our thinking: Goose is old (don’t tell him that, nor the vet who says he acts like a cat four years younger) and just starting to show signs of kidney issues. Clara came to us with (dear departed) Max, the only cat she really accepted. She and Goose ended up fine; not friends, but co-existing without much issue. All good, except what happens when Goose crosses the Rainbow Bridge? We worried that Clara (who’s deaf, which adds another hurdle to integration) wouldn’t like the surprise of new cats. So maybe a younger, bonded pair now, so when we say goodbye to Goose, she’d be at least comfortable with the new additions?

Ken found Hamish and Bonny Lass online at local shelter House of Dreams, and although they’re about the same age as Clara, off we went to meet them, and…oh, oh my heart.

Bonny Lass (formerly Bootsie, ugh, so we renamed her in a Scottish vein to go with Hamish) is grey with a white mustache, stripey legs, and emerald eyes. She likes toys, but not laps—however, she wants to be near you. At the shelter, she gave me her belly for rubs (and continues to do so, but she has a soft limit), gently patted my leg for more pats, and followed me into another room for more attention, at which point I melted into a puddle of love. Since coming home, I’ve learned that she also insists on being in the bathroom with me; if I close the door, she taps it until I open it, then hangs out and asks for pats. She’s not a lap cat, but needs to be near you (she leaps from one arm of my writing chair to the other, then asks for pats). She makes an adorable quiet trill if she makes any noise at all, especially with her favorite toy. Oh, and she makes biscuits at the drop of a hat, including with her back paws.

Hamish. Oh, sweet Hamish. (His name was Hammish when we met him, and indeed he is enormous and overweight and rather ham-shaped.) When we went to HoD, he lay in his bed and wasn’t much interested in us or the toys, although he wasn’t cranky either. I was concerned that we didn’t have chemistry, but we wanted a bonded pair and hoped he would come around. Well. After being introduced to my office and writing room, when I sat down, he jumped up and into my lap and purred like a mad cat. We soon learned that anywhere he is, if you reach out to him, he’ll start purring and flop over for belly rubs, stretching out his legs in ecstasy. He’s orange and has cauliflower ears from a past issue, and is enormous (he’s just shy of 17 lbs but he’s hefty and has a giant head, so…), and the best way I can describe him is stoned. Totally mellow and loving and trusting. Other than purring, the only noise he has made so far is to eke out a ridiculously tiny peep or two.

Integration was surprisingly uneventful. Clara hissed at the newcomers, as did Goose, but within four days we had opened up all the barriers/doors, and last Thursday morning I awoke to find all four cats on the bed (which is why I slept so late, honestly—the cat gravity had doubled and that’s my excuse). Clara still gives desultory hisses, as does Goose, but Hamish doesn’t really care (again, he’s so mellow I think he’s somehow permanently stoned) and Bonny Lass removes herself until the energy has mellowed. There are occasional spats, but they’re less and less as time goes on.

Hamish is due to some dental surgery in March and that will include the extraction of his fangs. Bonny Lass had a mammary carcinoma removed and based on the size of the tumor, the vet estimated a median lifespan of two years. Despite this diagnosis, we were committed to the pair, and we hope she’ll buck the odds and be with us longer. We wanted to give her a happy, warm, loving home until she must go, and we can only hope that Hamish weathers the transition well.

At any rate, our love for Goose and Clara isn’t lessened; after all, more cats mean more love for all. Squee!