Trick or Treats this year brought a tiny addition to our family: meet Margot, aka Tiny Perfect One. She was a stray hanging around a friend's house for weeks, and so small, she was barely bigger than my hand. I resisted for 2 weeks before finally crumbling a day before the weather turned bitter cold. She was meant to be. And I swear, God made her just for us.
Normally, introducing cats is a tricky business. Especially considering my Ari is a very sensitive boy who still hides under the bed when it storms. And then there's Ivan. If there is a species in the world more picky and temper-prone than your average possessive House Rabbit, I've never heard of it. But Margot breezed in with her sunny disposition and happy naivete and charmed the britches off both my boys. Ari was curled up and grooming her in less than 12 hours: how amazing is that?!! As for Ivan--I am convinced Margot is really a rabbit in cat's clothing. Ivan was her first conquest. He took all of 5 minutes for her to win over. One little lick on his head and he was putty in her paws.
So... introducing Margot, the totally sweet, wunderkitten.
Ok, so maybe not 100% totally sweet. She has one tiny little.. I can't call it a flaw. Call it a personality quirk. She's loving and accepting and totally perfect, except when it comes to food. It's been a month now and she still controls the food bowl. There's no point in putting out separate food bowls because she will run herself ragged protecting them all, at the same time. Ari is fine with this (my total love muffin, with his heart of gold). He lets her eat first and when she's done and off grooming or scratching in the litter, he wanders over to get his turn. But I tell you, that food bowl must never go empty or there will be hell to pay. And I mean that literally. She will tear the house apart looking for something edible, *anything* edible, if the bowl gets empty. I have learned to keep even the rabbit kibble under lock and key. I don't even want to mention what she did when she found a bag of rolls on the counter.
Case in point. Thanksgiving. I was invited to a friend's gathering, so there was no great temptation at the house. But I felt guilty: the pets should have their special treat too. So I brought home some favorites: kale and parsley for Ivan and two packages of cold cuts to share with the kitties. In my own naive way, I thought a few slices and they'd happily waddle off to bed. Four slices (turkey) was enough to more than fill up my Ari. Not Margot. She finished off the rest of the package! And as I was getting ready for bed, she climbed up to my shoulder, mewing piteously that she was still hungry. I am a sucker, of course, as if you couldn't have guessed that already. I sat down in the kitchen with her and opened the other package (ham), again sure that a slice or two would be more than enough. I pulled one off the top of the stack and Margot, in her enthusiasm, got me with an impatient claw. I screeched and dropped the slice on the floor. Margot jumped down to get her prize but oops! a claw got stuck in my shirt. She was so fixated on that slice of meat, however, that she turned into immediate feral hell cat, twisting and yowling like crazy, incensed that something (her own claw) was keeping her from her prey! I finally got her paw free and not only did she scarf down the entire slice of ham, she finished off the rest of the package. Except for the last slice. She was winding down by then and I managed to eat that myself.
So there you have it. I have a kitten with a stomach that's bigger on the inside than the outside. A friend told me I should have named her Tardis instead of Margot. Ha ha.
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