Dancing Never Hurt a Soul

When my little girl kitten was around 6 months old she loved to dance.  Any time she caught me dancing in the house, she would beg to join.  Coming straight up to me in my reverie she would sit at my feet meowing until I picked her up.  I would swoop down and catch her up in my arms and we would dance.  I never slowed the tempo or changed things up at all because of her presence.  No matter what my motion, she would sit calmly in my arms.  We would swirl around the house and rock and roll from here to there, and she would lay contentedly in my arms, reveling in the sensations.   She loved it all.  She never complained or panicked with any of the intricate moves or swings and swooshes we would do.  She simply lay curiously and took it all in. 

Provide Love When Needed

I often refer to my little boy Gwydion as the essence of pure love.  When he was a kitten at his foster home all of the other kittens in his litter including his mother were adopted out before him.  To quell his loneliness his foster family adopted another litter of kitties.  Apparently, usually when a kitten is introduced to another set of kittens he will put up a little show of territory—claiming his space before eventually getting to know the new pack.

 

Not Gwydion.  The moment the new kitties were brought into the room he took one look, walked straight over, and promptly began licking a little girl kitten (who later turned out to be the alpha female of the litter).  Without a moment’s hesitation, he adopted those new kitties straight into his heart. 

 

It is the same fashion with which he does pretty much everything.  He always knows when someone is in need of a little extra special loving care.  Recently we had a friend visiting.  She had been traveling for some time and was a little worn down when she arrived at our house.  She had never met our cats before. 

 Shortly after she arrived Gwydion came charging through the door on a mission.  Our friend sat down wearily on the couch while I went into the kitchen to make her something to eat.

 

 By the time I came out Gwydion was curled up on top of her, our friend’s hands nestled into his fur.  My friend was fast asleep under his warmth and comfort.  Gwydion’s eyes followed me across the room indicating that he didn’t want to move a muscle to disturb her.  She was obviously in need of some long overdue shut-eye, and his love had been just what she needed to get there.

 

It is better to be friends than enemies

The night my cats first met each other is one I will never forget.  Although, I had known my little girl kitty since before she was born, I didn’t bring her home with me until she was about 3 months old.  Immediately, I started looking for a companion cat for her.  I had always known that I would get two cats.  People have friends I thought, cats should too. 

I searched the island where I live, and then pet finders online.  Dilligently going over all of the kittens up for adoption every week, for more than a month I came up short.  Boy he is cute, but not for us I would think with every picture.  And then I saw Gwydion.

From the moment I saw his photo I knew he was our cat.  Honestly, there was nothing particularly striking about him— he wasn’t even the cutest kitty I had seen, but as soon as I saw the photo I knew:  he was our match.  He was just a month younger than Freya and from the description had a similar personality. 

I drove nearly 5 hours round trip to get him.  When I brought him home, as suggested I kept each cat in a different room, allowing them to get used to the smell of each other.  Before long each began to claw at the door of the other one’s room, dying to get in. 

So, I opened the doors and stood back.  The dance began.  For 16 hours straight they hissed and spit at each other, taking occasional swipes.  Not to be deterred by this unusual getting to know you dance, Gwydion took every opportunity to explore his new home.  He and Freya would hiss at each other and then presto, he would take off—his body low to the ground, exploring the territory he had never seen.  Freya would be hot on his tail.  In between swipes at each other, he surveyed every inch of his new home.

 They went at this so long that they started to stop for breathers.  They would hiss at each other, take some swipes, then they would each sprawl out (still quite close to each other) and rest.  Watching them at “break time” you would have thought they were experiencing a day on the beach.  Each one of them looked so relaxed and content, you would never guess that they had just been fighting or that they were about to do so again. 

I hardly slept a wink that night, as the two of them swept over the bed, rummaged through the closet, and slid across the hardwood floors in their varying states of rage and relaxation.  By morning they were through. 

I awoke to find both of them asleep on different corners of the bed.  When I went for my morning tea, I passed Gwydion eating out of the food bowl.  Freya was right behind me and as we passed, she gave him a drive-by kiss, licking his back.  An hour or two later I found the two of them cuddled up on the bed, nestled into each other like true loves.  For several hours they awoke only to lick and love each other, settling forever on the joy of friendship over rivalry.