(Translation: We still don’t know what the cat’s name is….)
Actually, we haven’t decided, though Lime suggested “Woolf” which appeals to me because of the obvious canine pun. Oddly, though, Lime has never yet read anything by Woolf. I wonder whether Orlando has been translated. (Or I could just as well find the movie, given the apparent quality of a certain proportion of translations from foreign languages into Korean.)
Anyway, the cat has pretty much adjusted to our place. That is to say, in her kitten way, which is that she doesn’t really stray too far from the two “offices” that Lime and I have in our home. When she’s in Lime’s office, she wanders around a little more, whereas in my office, she likes to curl up in the tiniest spaces she can find — on top of a stack of CD-books, or in some spot on the shelf where there’s a space just big enough for her above a few paperback novels in a row.
She seems much less freaked out, though, by the fact she’s living in a house now, that these two gigantic weird mammals are thumping around and talking to her and picking her up and so on.
One bizarre thing about her is that she didn’t seem to need any potty-training at all. (Mind you, I’ve ordered a book for more info on raising a cat.) But seriously, that whole newspaper-on-the-floor, crap-and-piss ordeal with dogs? Forget it. It took her a couple of days before she even needed to relieve herself, which some of Lime’s cat-otaku netfriends said is quite normal in terms of adjustment. The first time she had to go, though, she voluntarily headed straight for the (makeshift, cardboard) kitty litter box we’d set up and did it the civilized way. I was in the other room, but Lime saw it and was shocked.
The claws? So needing a trim. Lime’s been scratched twice, whilst I’ve only been jabbed a few times. Lime surfs the net sitting on the floor, at this low floor table, but me, I sit up in my chair, at a desk, and the cat does not like hanging around on my lap as much at a height.
She’s starting to be more playful, which is cool in some ways — better than her being frightened all the time — but dangerous in others, as she — like most cats — seems to be most eager to play at 5:00am. Which is not so bad during holidays, since I’m often still awake by that time, but during semesters, I think we’re going to have to either give her alternate amusements, or else train her onto a daytime schedule. Which, you know, is less than natural for a cat, but from what I’ve read, doable.
What’s weird is how quickly she’s wriggled her way into our hearts.
But, ahem, I’m, you know, er, still, like, well, a dog person.