when cat meets cat

So it's true, we have a new cat. He's one year old, buff and white (same colors as the late Pandora), with big golden eyes; seven pounds but very small - all muscle - and we have named him Tybalt. That's the name that Shakespeare took from a cat in the traditional cycle of Reynard the Fox fables, which is why the other characters in Romeo and Juliet make feline references about him.

Tybalt is quite a bundle to have taken on. Every other cat we've had has been shy when we first got them home, however briefly; Tybalt was game for attention and affection from the moment he came out of the cat carrier. He's also the highest-energy cat we've had. It was evening by the time we got him home from the Humane Society and shut up in the upstairs bathroom. After B. went to bed it was my turn to spend time with him, and I realized that he wasn't satisfied with the little toys, a ball and such, that he had. He needed a toy that would play with him. By this time the pet stores were closed, so I ran out to the big all-night supermarket in hopes they'd have some cat toys next to the pet food. They did, and I came back with a little plush fish on the end of a string on the end of a pole, which he's been chasing energetically and mauling ever since. (Which is why there are no photos of him yet: he won't stay still!)

And Maia, now our older cat? Previous new arrivals had been greeted by existing cats with emotions ranging from longing to indifference, but once Maia realized there was a cat behind that door, she got grouchy and would hiss once she heard a sound. Permanent hostility between cats is not something we wished to engender, and the recommended advice for cat socialization involves keeping the cats separated for over a week and then introducing them slowly; but our only lockable space is that bathroom (the bedroom doors don't close securely, and Maia would be distressed to be kept out), and high-energy Tybalt was going stir-crazy in there, even with the cat toy.

We let him out for upstairs exploration a couple times when Maia wasn't there, and then eventually B. just said the heck with it and let them meet. (Every cat behavior expert for miles around expires of shock.) There was one giant hiss from Maia, but so far it's going OK, I hope. Meanwhile, Maia has been extra solicitous of attention, and has even resumed her childhood habit of scampering over the big cat tree after a peacock feather. Perhaps Tybalt is making her feel young.