12/15/12 - Ferby's settling in. It was tough for him the first couple of weeks. Zumi repeatedly invited him to play, but Ferb unenthusiastically turned him down. Ferby, I think, didn't feel up to the task, in view of the unexpectedly invasive surgery and the diarrhea (the diarrhea is clearing up slowly). He feels much, much better now. One day last week he suddenly got with the program and started playing.
The two kittens tear around the room, banking off the wall behind the sofa and leaping from chair to table, dangerously close to the Christmas tree. They have taken over the space just inside the front door, where the throw rug piles up against the door as they skid into it at speed. Three boxes, two with specially carved holes, have accumulated there and the cats are enthralled. They poke and paw at each other from inside and outside and chase each other from box to box every morning.
Ferby's game of the hour is to dig up the cherry bomb mouse from its dusty burrow under the love seat and march with it into one of the boxes. Then he gives the mouse a good thrashing inside the box, which makes the box tip and slide around on the floor, until the mouse escapes on the vector of Ferby's hind foot. The mouse flies across the room. Ferby explodes from the box, catches the mouse, returns to the box with it, and the thrashing begins anew. This goes on for 10 minutes several times a day. The skidding boxes slamming into the door is alarming. A chime on the door jingles whenever something agitates it, so the commotion sounds like a giant paper bag filled with rats punching through the front door with a battering ram.
I was worried that Ferby might not work out for us and I couldn't bear the thought of taking him back to the shelter. Guess I was worried for nothing.