So I adopted a cat. I know. I hate cats. They are antisocial. Their piss can stink up an entire house. They claw at furniture and wires. They can hide in odd places and scare the shit out of you. They treat you like staff and don’t do anything you ask of them. If you get any affection, it’s luck.

But I impulsively got it in my head that a cat needed a good home and I do have a good home with plenty of space for a cat. Plus, I have a sweet, older dog who can handle it and would probably like a buddy.

I brought him home yesterday and set up his litter box, bed, water, food, toys and scratching post in the guest room. He immediately went for the closet shelves and suitcases but he let me pet him plenty. I brought him out of the closet and he went under the bed.

When I went back in at bedtime, he was actually on the bed cuddled up in a blanket and he let me sleep next to him for awhile. He had also eaten and peed which is a good sign.

This morning I found him under the bed. When I checked on him later he was in an empty box I put down for him but raced back under the bed. He has spent the entire day under the bed. Doesn’t want to be pet or interact.

Fergus is dying to meet him. He goes to the door every chance he gets. I want them to meet but I know it takes time. Poor cat has no idea what’s happening. I just hope Fergus doesn’t feel replaced. That’s impossible. Fergus is the love of my life but I don’t want him to have one negative feeling. Oh boy, did I do the right thing here?

I just felt so compelled to provide a home. I have a cat right now and don’t know how I feel about it other than knowing he is so much better off today than he was yesterday in a cage waiting to be adopted.

I have read a hundred articles over the weekend telling me how normal this is. I’m just impatient and I hate the idea any animal is suffering from fear or insecurity. Hopefully not both of the ones in my house.

Stay tuned as I chronicle this crazy adventure!