Wont

We weren't going to introduce cats for another day or two, but Eleanor, as is her wont, had other plans. Only a brief hiss, not sure from which cat, and it's been mellow. Her curiosity satisfied, she's been gently leaving him to hide. He's still under the bed, but he's been out to the cat tree, ran away as soon as Dylan saw him. And to the laundry room, scampers back under when I spotted him. Mewed last night, a high tenor that is distinct from Eleanor's mew. Using litter boxes, not eating - or not much, but moving around when humans are not in view, testing the territory. We listen for different sounds.

But Moby did much the same, hiding under the couch, then the bathroom cabinet, then our bed, for a full week. This is where we earn his trust, by letting him find his own comfort level, not forcing, just being there. We will see the cat who was glad of head scritches in the shelter again. Not unlike putting a seed in the soil and letting it germinate, not try to dig it up to see if it's happening.

Eleanor is obviously happier and more relaxed, she'd also been a caretaker of our elderly and ailing Moby. However much we always miss him, there is still relief in letting all the extra work drop away as well. The intense, gut-punch pain recedes, as we focus on the life ahead.


When in Basic, we knew the footsteps of the Drill Sergeants at night. We knew which one. In the dark intensity, we listened. Our ears are attuned to the varying noises of cats. This one is different, and we will learn him. As he will learn us.