WE GOT THIS

Introducing a New Cat to Your Household?

Gird your loins and expect to be mentally and physically wiped out, but it will be worth it

It’s been around seven weeks since we first introduced our new kitty, Murphy to our existing furkids, Conor and Lorna.

The process started out well. Better than we expected, in fact. But, because apparently, the Universe has decided that we haven’t quite gotten our share of ass-whippings, we’re still struggling to integrate this boy into the family.

We’ve done everything right. Everything. You don’t share your life with cats for over thirty years and not pick up a few tips. But cats, being what they will, will try to trip you up at every turn.

Initially, we moved very slowly. We segregated Murphy in our den, a very comfy, cozy room with a loveseat and a big window from which this six-year-old, Maine Coon mix could watch the birds at the feeder out front.

Surprisingly, Conor and Lorna weren’t as freaked out as we thought they’d be. Oh, they were curious as hell and there was a fair share of hissing at the closed door, but nothing to suggest that our efforts would go to shit.

When we thought the time was right, we used door stops to allow Conor and Lorna to get a peek at Murphy, and he, them. But, he’s a fairly strong cat and as I’m an anal pet parent, we went back to keeping the door firmly shut.

Now, it didn’t help that I became really sick at the onset of our introductory phase, and in fact, am still not up to par, but we gotta do what we gotta do, right?

Finally, the day came when my husband and I thought that our brood of three could mix and mingle.

Whew! Although there was a bit of expected weirdness, no fighting broke out. Little did I know that the feline fisticuffs were to come.

After a couple of days of relative peace, I awoke one morning and clumped down to the basement to get in a couple of miles on the stationary bike before feeding the cats, which was my usual routine.

Immediately, I could sense the tension between Murphy and Conor, and Lorna. It looked like they were ganging up and stalking him. My belief is that something broke out amongst them while my husband and I were sleeping, the house was dark, and perhaps things got noir-ish, with Lorna being the femme fatale that she is. When she gets like this she often reminds me of Natalie Wood’s character in Rebel Without A Cause, where she waves the flags to signal a drag race.

“On your mark! Get set! Go at it boys!”

Anyway, this particular morning, Murphy vocalized his displeasure and that was it. A fight broke out. And folks, you cat parents know how horrific these can be. Usually, if you intercede quickly, there’s more sound than fury but there’s no getting around the fact that catfights can result in grudges held for weeks, or longer.

It wasn’t terrible as I did my best to keep the carnage at bay. I squirted them all with water, which barely fazed them, and then was finally able to corral Murphy and carry him back to his room, even though one is never supposed to try to pick up a cat in the middle of a brawl.

So, after that setback, the next step in the introduction process was the “scent swap.” Here, I sequestered Conor and Lorna in the laundry room with their daily mid-day ration of kibble, as treats.

With them safely ensconced, I let Murphy go on a “walkabout,” to explore his new home and leave his scent in as many places as possible.

Some other things we tried: Thanks to my pal, Deborah Camp, I was reminded of the pheromone diffusers from Feliway and other brands. I purchased a few on Amazon and plugged them in wherever I thought would do the most good. I still don’t know if they’re working but hell, any port in a storm.

Also, I purchased two different kinds of “vet-approved” calming treats which naturally, they turned their noses up at. Except for Murphy, who will graciously eat a couple of the crispier ones.

Oy.

Calming sprays. We have two different brands that I’ve sprayed all over this house only to have them leave a sticky-looking residue on our new, laminate floors in the family room and kitchen. How the hell I’m going to get that off, I don’t know but if I dwell on it, I’m going to launch into a coughing fit.

Speaking of, yesterday, my hubby took me to an urgent care facility to get checked out for the flu and/or walking pneumonia and the wait was three hours.

Perhaps, tomorrow. There are a shit ton of people who are currently ill, folks, with either Covid, flu, or that “other” thing. The virulent little buggers are everywhere, so take care of yourselves.

So, back to the little tigers. Since nothing else seemed to be working, I researched pet gates on Amazon and finally settled on one of the tallest I could find at thirty-nine inches. One that allows us to walk through it when we need to at the flip of a button.

We installed the gate and at first, we were thrilled because Murphy was segregated but also able to touch noses or swat at the other two through the slats on the gate. It was a safe and seemingly effective compromise.

And then one morning I woke up, staggered to the bathroom, and saw Murphy trucking down the hall. He jumped the damn gate! How the hell he was able to do that at nearly thirteen pounds (possibly more), is a mystery to me.

Even after covering the top with aluminum foil, which cats hate, he flew right over it.

It was okay, though as once again, all three seemed to be getting along.

But now, they’re not. Inexplicably. Whenever Conor or Lorna go near Murphy, he whines or growls at them. And that riles them up and all three square off. At this stage, I’m at a loss. He obviously still needs to be sequestered, but, as I don’t want to leave him behind a closed door, and he’s able to jump the fookin’ pet gate, how do I manage that?

My next, and possibly last effort will be to fasten an inexpensive spring rod, or tension rod a few inches over the top of the gate so that Murphy can’t jump it.

And then, if that doesn’t work, I just don’t know. I almost forgot to add that I asked our vet to prescribe something for Conor and Lorna to take the edge off and he suggested Gabapentin. I gave the Dynamic Duo a tiny dose this morning but should have given them more.

Let me be clear: It’s not that the three are going at it tooth and nail, but they frequently come close, and I’m constantly on edge waiting for a brawl to break out.

That said, I am anal to the max. My husband is a lot more chill and thinks that I should just leave them the hell, alone. Perhaps he’s right. And perhaps they do pick up on my tension. What can I say? It’s been a shitty month.

At this juncture, I’m out of “tricks” and worn to the bone, much of that due to my physical woes these past few weeks.

It may take a few more weeks for Conor, Lorna, and Murphy to peacefully cohabit in the way that I want them to. But, my babies may surprise me.

It doesn’t matter. Murphy’s not going anywhere.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2022. All Rights Reserved.

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Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.