I was buying supplies at the local pet store on Sunday, and a rescue group from the county where my brother lives had pets for adoption on the sidewalk outside the store. They had several dogs and one kitten, solid black. She was sleeping. They had named her Squeak because of the sound of her meow. I asked how old she was; she’s 3 1/2 months, just like Penny was when I brought her home. They said that she’s very active and playful. I described Cedar and his need for a younger companion, and they said her temperament would be a perfect fit. So, I adopted her. The people from the rescue dropped her off at my house on their way back to the county where they live (it’s on the way).
We’re in the hiss-hiss-growl-growl stage right now. I changed her name to Sheree (accent on the second syllable). She stays in the bedroom when I’m at work, and when I get home, I bring her to a large dog kennel I set up in the living room. It has a kitten-size litter box in it, food, and water; I also put her carrier in it, open, so she has a place to go to feel safe.
I say I “think” I have a kitten because, when I looked at her next to Cedar, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone with him until she’s a great deal larger and heavier. She’s so small and thin, and Cedar can get rough with his playing. If at any time I decide I’m not able to keep her, I’m to return her to the rescue group. If I return her within 10 days of adoption, they refund the adoption fee.
She’s been there a little more than 48 hours, so it’s really too early to tell. In my experience, the hiss-hiss-growl-growl stage lasts less than a week. Cedar has never had to adjust to the arrival of a new cat, though; poor Penny is an expert at it.
We’ll see.