Of course we named her Loki.
Ross and I had been toying with the idea of getting another cat for a few months, but we hadn't really made a concrete decision. We vascillated over the cost, the benefits, and the twice-as-stinky litter box that would result from an additional feline in the house. Two weeks ago, however, we made the fateful decision to walk around at Robinson Mall and browse while longingly savoring the aroma of Chick-Fil-A and McDonald's (we're trying to cut back on fried food, and that is, naturally, when it is most alluring). We happened upon a display set up by the Humane Society for their cat adopting promotion.
As we learned when we attempted to drop off Thor with them last year, many kittens are born between May and July, making it "kitten season". Hundreds of babies are born to mommy cats who haven't been spayed, and animal shelters are literally up to their ears in frisky, adorable felines who need homes. We had seen quite a few in our neighborhood without collars or bells - one of whom we even guessed might be Thor's mother - and all of the cats I had during my childhood had been strays. (Moral of the story: spay and neuter your pets, people! I don't have to get all Sarah McLachlan on you, do I?)
There were three cats at the mall. One was a charming, calm black and white male, perhaps a year old, an antsy brindle-coated female of the same age...and a gorgeous, frisky, bright-eyed brown tabby. Ross asked to pet her, and the volunteer hesitated, saying that she'd been handled a lot and she'd really only prefer if we played with her if we were seriously considering adoption. Ross confirmed that we were - to my surprise, of course. "She's just had her nap," the girl added, "So she will probably be really energetic." Ross opened the cage and out sprung the tabby, inquisitive and excited. Within a minute, though, she had fallen asleep in his arms.
As children came up to pet and admire the kitty, I saw that Ross had fallen in love with her faster than he had fallen for me! "Where can we sign?" I heard him asking of the kitten, whose name was actually Luna - but it wouldn't be for long.
I thought she was a pretty cute little catch, but admittedly, I was worried about my unsuspecting fur-baby at home. Thor hadn't had much time to play with his litter mates, if there were any - we'd found him at five weeks. He had gotten used to us and our schedules. How would he take the arrival of a new kitten? Would she be a compatriot or a competitor?
I read through the literature given to us, as well as did some research online about how to introduce a new cat to the existing one. I read that the cats were not to see each other for a full week, resticted to simply smelling each others' scent on towels or washclothes. Then, they were to be allowed to briefly see each other through a mostly-closed door, and even then, only while being given treats so that seeing each other becomes associated with positive things.
And I am so glad I disregarded all of that.
The layout of our house didn't permit it, and, frankly, I am too lazy to fuss that much over pets. I'm sure the advice is excellent, but, after only a few hours of segregation, Thor noticed Loki through the glass door between the kitchen and the dining room. He was shocked, it seemed, but he wasn't on the defensive. He wasn't yowling or hissing, his tail wasn't lashing, and he puffed up only when I unexpectedly opened the door to come to pet him.
The separation lasted a day.
When they met nose-to-nose, Loki was in her glory. A friend! A friend just like me - but bigger! Oh, yay! Thor was hesitant and wary, and his confusion resulted in Loki backing him playfully into the corner on more than one occasion. Really? My mighty thunder-cat, perplexed by a two-pound kitten? It was entertaining, to say the very least.
Even as I watched them play (or, in Thor's case, avoid playing), I was thanking God that they were getting along. I had heard horror stories of cats having to be separated permanently, or being returned to the shelter for not getting along with the existing pets - or children. That was actually another reason we had gotten Loki. The time will come when I do have a full-term pregnancy, and we didn't want Thor to lose his little kitty mind having to adjust his lifestyle. Now that he's adapted once to an interloper, hopefully it will not be as traumatic when we finally do bring home a baby.
Thor plays a bit rough sometimes, and Loki is certainly lively. But there haven't been many instances when we've actually been worried about them hurting each other. In fact, there was an interesting moment in the dining room just last week...
Ross had gotten home and was preparing the grill for burgers. He came back into the house and we were playing with the cats when, suddenly, Thor puffed up to twice his size and began hissing and growling. We followed his gaze; from atop the buffet table (his favorite spot), he was glaring angrily into the backyard at a little black female cat who was passing through. The Black Widow, as we'd nicknamed her (come on, people, if we're naming our cats after Avengers, we'd best keep the theme), had appeared before, sparking Thor's interest, but this time he seemed particularly aggressive. When his puffing and spitting finally intimidated (or bored) the cat enough for her to leave, Thor turned to Loki and protectively licked her ears.
Okay, so maybe I'm projecting a little too much humanity onto my cats. But that's okay. Clearly, they get along and Thor has accepted Loki as his little sister.
Oh, and if you think it's strange for us to name a female cat after the Norse god of mischief...put down your DVDs and brush up on your mythology. There's a lot more to Loki than Tom Hiddleston in a cape and horns - although his portrayal is certainly nothing to scoff at!
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