You all know this guy:
You’re also familiar with this smooth operator:
Let me introduce Alfred:
Don’t start congratulating me; Alfred belongs to The Electrician’s little brother, henceforth referred to as TELB. Earlier this week, TELB called to ask if Alfred could stay at the Dollhouse Hotel during the holidays because The Electrician’s mom is too allergic to cats for the little redhead to visit there. I was a bit hesitant to have Alfred, even through he is definitely a sweetie, because I wasn’t sure how my boys would deal with another mammal in the house. Sherman loves everyone, and Leroy is such a suck that I thought we could probably straighten things out.
There was a four hour standoff in my kitchen last night. Imagine too orange kitties, one vibrant and the other subtly so, hunkered down and staring at each other. Every now and again, one or both spit at the other so emphatically that I could smell the cat breath as I marked papers at the kitchen table. For an hour at a time, neither cat moved except to fluff his hair up even more dramatically and display his incisors. Leroy regularly emitted a groan/growl hybrid that sounded like a pathetic fire engine that had lost the will to live.
The whole scene was intense.
Alfred spent the night in the basement –where he howled for hours– and this morning we had the same snarly scene over breakfast, except the smell in the air was cat morning breath, an even bigger treat.
For his part, Sherman is rather bewildered by this whole houseguest business. He sniffs at Alfred from afar but refuses to get within swiping distance: smart dog.
Alfred is loose in the house now, but it seems he is afraid of Leroy, who is generally the world’s biggest marshmallow. I rarely find him out in the open, but he’s selected a series of hiding spots that, while not overly original or effective, certainly add to the entertainment value of his presence.
Right now, Alfred is trying to wedge himself into The Electrician’s sneaker in the back porch. The poor thing is stressed right out.
I had visions of the two kitties snuggling together in a sunbeam on the floor, like a Hallmark card. Instead, it smells of angry kibble breath in here whenever they get going and I’m worried the fur will start flying at any minute.
Dear Santa, please bring me some feline sedatives, in mint flavour if possible.
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