A Tale of One Kitten (And One Stoic Cat)

Over the summer, my parents acquired two rag doll kittens to provide companionship to their chonky orange tabby after the loss of his brother. While the kittens were eager to meet a new friend, Uncle Owen was not keen on the little immigrants. However, after little Percy passed away, his rambunctious sister was even more determined to escape captivity and torment her new friend.

So, the saga continues.

After a few weeks of clawing the door to shreds in between monitored visits, I finally convinced my parents to let the cats cohabitate and (hopefully) learn to tolerate each other. A few weeks in, and it seems to be working.

Poppy zooms around the home, leaping from one high surface to another, often sneaking up on Owen from behind, surely asking, “wanna play?!” over and over again. But no, he is not interested. He tolerates her, eyes tracing her every move as her tiny snout peeks around the corner and her fluffy being teleports from across the room. Nose to nose, his eyes widen in disbelief.

It’s only when she starts grooming his back end that he resorts to low growling and bopping her on the head. Nope, kiddo, weren’t not that close.

After a few weeks of the fluffy intruder sleeping in his bed, scratching his post, and nibbling on his dinner, he’s not only found ways to put her in her place and demand submission, but he’s trained her to be his obedient little servant.

Poppy retrieves toys and drops them in front of Owen, either by request or as a peace offering. And, most recently, Owen taught his little frenemy how to work the “treat machine.” Now, Owen stands by while Poppy flips the canisters and dumps out the treats. Owen scarfs up the goodies while Poppy steps back to watch, looking both confused and content.

After all this time, she’s finally made a new friend.