One morning as I was stroking the ever-more-sociable Norah, I looked around to see Cassie sitting close to my feet.
This was… surprising.
Thus far, Cassie had tolerated being tickled with a fluffy stick and occasionally brushed. But with the few exceptions where I had raised a purr, I had felt my attentions came under the category of “not quite annoying enough to move” rather than “I am basking in your love”. Certainly, Cassie had never asked for affection.
Slowly, I reached out with my hand and tickled her gently around the ears. Cassie lifted her head so I could scratch under her chin.
That was new. And sudden.
I looked back at Norah, who was head-butting my other hand. And then back at Cassie. I lifted an eyebrow and eyed the two cats. “You’re both jealous.”
You are the wrong side of this door. Are you really a cat?
And so began what I can only describe as a competitive love match.
Norah was a stray cat who I had spayed, vaccinated and returned to her territory around my apartment complex. She had not initially been friendly, but had unexpectedly appeared on my balcony one morning with goals that involved more food and a spot indoors to sleep when she was in the mood.
Norah’s appearance had been greeted with surprising enthusiasm by Cassie. I say “surprising” as my previous cat, Tallis, strongly believed no other cats but her good self should exist. Of course, Cassie had lived with other cats at the cat shelter for years, so her interest was perhaps to be expected. What I think was completely unexpected was how much Cassie would learn from Norah.
For the first month of Norah’s visits to the balcony, Cassie and Norah sniffed each other through the insect mesh. When she spotted Norah out there, Cassie would trot to the mesh and meow for attention. Most often, Norah would come close for a sniff unless I’d just put out a fresh bowl of food and then… well, Norah had her priorities.
Once reasonably confident in their attitude to one another, I opened to mesh door to let Norah inside. The first time I did this, Norah tucked into a bowl of wet food I’d put down while I attempted to stroke her and Cassie stuck her nose deep into Norah’s ear. It was 2021. We were unaccustomed to guests.
Later visits were similar with Norah casing the joint for food, while Cassie would sniff her all over and occasionally bite her on the tail. This might have been a worrying action, except the bite was never hard enough for Norah to take much notice. Apparently, she was just… tasty.
As Norah became more affectionate, I did become concerned that Cassie might feel left out. I therefore made a point of going over to Cassie after petting Norah and giving her a brush or gentle ear saw with the fluffy sticks. Either such attentions were insufficient, or watching another cat enjoy being petted made Cassie feel bolder. Norah’s visits took on a pattern whereby she would come inside, head-butt Cassie and have a good sniff, check for any unguarded food bowls, and then the pair would whizz around my feet while I alternated stroking each of them in turn.
Cassie: I hardly ever come up here.
Norah: WUT. Why?
Cassie: Now you mention it… not sure.
It was not only petting that Cassie copied. Norah started to jump on the sofa or bed to take a nap, and—despite having only briefly been on either location in the past—I would find Cassie right there beside her. Even when Norah was outside, Cassie’s new found confidence remained. I could soon stroke her confidently with my hand with a bit of patience, and she spent less time in her bed in the closet and more in open spaces such as the sofa or window bed.
Why Cassie, the veteran domestic cat of over a decade, was learning social skills from a stray was a bit of a mystery. On consideration, I think a possible explanation might be the set-up at the cat shelter where Cassie was living. When I first visited Cassie, the shelter had about fifteen cats who were divided into three separate rooms. Cassie’s room was for senior, shy cats. The walls were a maze of boxes and ledges where cats could find a bit of peace and quiet from each other and any humans who happened to be shuffling around. Cassie seemed very relaxed in this spot, but surrounded by cats with a similar shy disposition to her own, she had few opportunities to observe first hand cats who enjoyed being petted. Now she had a front-row seat.
Norah clearly adored Cassie. She proved to be a great snuggler, and would prefer to sleep in a heap with her paws draped about Cassie. Whether this wish came to fruition depended somewhat on Cassie’s mood, but successes were common.
Being only about 1 ~ 2 years old, Norah is still 70% kitten. She frequently chases Cassie around the apartment or attempts to wrestle her. I worried this would be annoying to my 12 year old dignified matron, until I realised that Cassie made no attempt to move to a place where Norah couldn’t jump her. They also began a cushion war over who would sleep on the red cushion on the sofa. I’m pretty sure I bought this back in 2005 in from the New Jersey Ikea, making it substantially older than either of them. But apparently, it’s the greatest cat bed known to feline kind. The loser would typically come and snuggle next to me, keeping one eye on the other cat to confirm this dominance in attention was being observed.
Ah, it’s good to be loved.
As yet not fully adjusted to indoor life, Norah still spends most of the day outside. After taking Cassie to the vet one time, Cassie meowed solidly through the evening until Norah eventually appeared on the balcony and was let back in. I then watched them team up to squash the cat carrier before going to sleep together in the cat beds in the closet. It was a family vengeance project, and a big change from the month of sulks that had previously been the result of a vet visit.
So despite only planning to have a single cat, this is how I ended up with two. Norah had decided she wanted a home. Cassie had decided she couldn’t manage without Norah. And I… well, I didn’t really get a say. But I did get cat cuddles, so we’ll call it quits.