Routines were established, preferences discovered, alliances made, quirks revealed. Things, sort of, settled down, to the extent that is possible with six kittens in the house. Lupo was neutered in October, little Notte was spayed in November.
And "the girls" outside continued to show up daily, while the other "regulars" showed up intermittently. Among those there was Funky, Mr. Gray, another tortoise shell that we believe is Funky's mother (and spayed) and a creamsicle (orange and white) male that is relatively harmless and skittish, "Due," the other black cat that always looks pregnant, as well as a large orange male whom everyone hates. I call him the Orange Creep, my husband has a more profane name for him. He comes stalking through our piazzetta periodically and starts fights. The other cats do their best to avoid him but it isn't always possible. He's a mean, miserable cat and my neighbors cannot stand him either. Unfortunately, this little monster has a flea collar on, so he "belongs" to someone but we don't know who or where they are. I refuse to allow him to eat anything meant for "our" group. He hates the sight of me anyway because I always hiss at him and shoo him away.
There I was, with two trays ready of both dry and wet food inside the courtyard. I had my keys, my mask on, my winter jacket. I opened the door with its inevitable loud clicking noise which alerts the cats, and in ran Mamma and Ink and Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray claimed the wet food, the girls shared the dry. Then I saw Orange Creep, only it wasn't Orange Creep, it was yet another orange cat. "Who are you?" He stayed outside, politely.
My hope that his visit was a one time thing disappeared as he reappeared, day after day. He was dirty, but orange all over. He liked coming into the courtyard and quickly started eating once he knew the regulars would not begrudge him.
If I thought Lupo was unusual and readily affectionate, this boy was Lupo on steroids. He jumped on my lap and purred so loud it echoed in the courtyard. He fell asleep in my lap. He followed my husband on dog walks. He wanted to stay and nap on the bench inside the outer door and one day, since it was pouring outside, he did just that. **sigh**
The name "Percy" landed in my brain and this cat learned it was his name, I swear, in one day. He came, like a puppy, when he was called.
By this time, Lupo and Notte bunked for the night in one large cage, Imp and Zini bunked in the other and the third cage was occupied only for eating and bathroom access. Scruff and Missy Titi enjoyed total freedom all night long. There was room for the slightly smaller 'condo' cage to be resurrected and set up in the back.
Since it was clear he would be easy to capture - I won't say trap because that wasn't necessary - we planned on getting him neutered as soon as possible. With that, in January, Percy entered our lives. Percy, the wild card, the complete unknown. Where did he come from? How old was he? How would everyone else react to him?
He didn't mind being stuck in the cage much since he had food, water and a pan. He had time to clean himself up. He got through surgery with no problem at all. Back at home, there was some hissing and a few "fat tail" moments, but for the most part, my gang of sweet babies adjusted in a matter of days. Some of that was probably due to Percy's outgoing personality. He was delighted with the menu, with toys, with scratching posts, with playmates, with everything.
The tunnels!! They played a large role in his assimilation. He adored the tunnels and would cannonball into them, run through and do it again or just sit in one and play with a ball inside which eventually led to Zini and Titi and Lupo wanting to play chase. The biggest holdout was little Notte, but even she overcame what I think was fear and accepted Percy into the fold.
He is a handful. He is very vocal, very active, completely addicted to food and quite large, although we think he is a young boy somewhere around one year old. He likes to climb up high (not good) and has been a bit of a bad influence in that regard. On the other hand, he is a lap cat, like Lupo, easy to handle and a love bucket when he's calm.
Here we are, with seven freaking cats. With Covid still ravaging Europe (and the US) we can't go anywhere anyway. I won't be travelling anywhere anytime soon. Heck, I barely venture outside at this point. So, we saved seven street cats, neutered nine and saved hundreds of unwanted kittens from being born into misery.
This is the end of the introductions, but not of the story. Stay tuned.
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