Wednesday, July 14, 2010
We have named the new kitteh Gracie. Well, I named her Gracie. Guy wanted to name her MacGruber, but I said no. (I swear, I don't know what's wrong with that man, but I bet it's hard to pronounce.)
She's only been here since Saturday afternoon, and Gracie's fur is already looking better. She's smoothed down and floofed up, and the white on her paws is looking a little brighter. We're working on giving her a bibbin--we could tell that she wasn't getting a lot to eat at the shelter (too many aggressive kittehs around her, plus she was always nursing). She's decided that she belongs everywhere in the house, and every seat is hers. She already knows the sound of the crinkling treat bag and the swoop of the food container coming off in time for feeding.
Actually, she's getting more tolerant of Gracie with each passing day. The first time she saw Gracie on Sunday, it was hate at first hiss. But Tuesday night at dinner, Hazel followed her into the kitchen, sniffed her butt, and hissed loudly. I said, "Well, Lulu, you sniffed her ass--what did you expect it to smell like?"