Cat Update

Tyrone and Sinead are adjusting well to the new apartment. I'm not sure I am, though. The old apartment was in a heated building; I had gotten used to keeping the windows cracked open to let in some cooler air. The new apartment has its own thermostat, and I've never felt so cold in my own home. It takes about 20 times as long to get hot water in the bathtub as in the old place, and the building is haunted by a sound similar to a young human male vocalizing in the far reaches of the basement. I have tried to investigate the source of this noise, but without success.

Sinead has turned out to be a grand-prize cuddler. She likes to snuggle, nuzzle, purr, and rub against one; she makes beckoning gestures with a forepaw; she even kisses a little more than I strictly care for. This hasn't deterred Tyrone from continuing to warm up. In fact, one sunny afternoon a couple weeks ago as I lay on the couch reading, both cats climbed aboard my considerable torso and cuddled together in a manner that, from an objective, scientific point of view, was frankly adorable. It was the kind of moment that usually lasts 1.5 minutes before my bladder alerts me to an upcoming gusher. But amazingly, we managed to stay in that peaceful pile for a good quarter of an hour. That's ages in cat time.

I am relaxing the door-shut-at-night rule. The trade-off simply wasn't worth it. I would rather have Sinead play the poke-Daddy-through-the-bedclothes game once a night than miss the full-hearted feeling of waking up in the wee hours with at least one cat curled up beside me. Sleep is more effective as a group activity.