Bringing Penny home really made it sink in how much the new cat, Tweed, does not fit in here. Batman is goofy, squishy, snuggly mess, but Tweed, besides being regal, graceful, and undeniably beautiful, has nothing going for him. He’s not nasty or anything, but mostly he’s just indifferent. He’s indifferent to us, he tolerates petting, he doesn’t want to be held or cuddled. He does not purr. There’s something wrong with a cat that doesn’t purr. He is healthy, and despite a week of pouting, he eats enthusiastically. He spends all day by himself, but will play “Big Brother” and watches me from the landing of the stairs. He lays there staring at me, and tears off when anyone approaches while he’s lying on the stairs (yet he is fine with the dog, go figure). He ignores you if he’s anywhere else.

He fights with Batman occasionally, and they get really loud, but it’s not as ugly as it would get with Boo and Batman, and those two were just playing. They have their peaceful moments together on the bed, and I’ve even caught them grooming one another a time or two. It’s not that they hate each other, it’s just that they seem to have nothing in common.

Except the laser pointer. Man, they get riled up, and it’s quite a sight. Tweed is especially fast and agile, and Batman has gone to great lengths to keep up with him. So yes, Tweed’s only loves are laser pointers, cheese, and bugs he can eat. Not the cuddly cat I came home with.

We spoke about re-homing him at length one night. We think he’s a beautiful cat, but we’re not particularly attached to him. We agreed that he’s not unhappy, but he isn’t particularly happy either. We spoke tentatively about giving him back to the rescue, but I think we’ll only do that if fights between him and Batman turn really ugly. He is our responsibility, and all. I wouldn’t want to put this sort of cat into a home where people would be expecting, you know, a cat, instead of furry surveillance equipment. The next morning he was soliciting pets, and acting so much more friendly and normal. Pat and I remarked in secret about how suspicious it was, and how he knew we were talking about him going back. We may need to rename him to B.B.

If you’ll excuse me, Big Brother is watching.


2 responses to “Detached

  1. dangerouspenguin

    Alley was like this and we grew to love her. The only time she would really seek out interaction with us is when we were on the toilet — she liked to stand on the countertop and bonk heads. We could pick her up and pet her but she would almost never purr. She never once came to lie on the couch with us, or the bed. She and Spike (who is like a dog) tolerated each other, but never interacted much unless he was bullying her. We felt the same way as you and Pat until we recognized that she was always within sight — watching from a shelf or the stairs or the corner of the table. We concluded that she was as happy as she would ever be (or that she was a space alien, sent to observe us). We were devastated when she disappeared last year (we like to believe that the mothership returned for her) and we saw her shadow watching us for months. I hope that you keep BB.

  2. homespunheretic

    We will most likely be keeping him. We really are too attached to him. If he bonds with a guest and it’s obvious he would be happier with them, then he’ll go, but until then he’ll stay.

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