It’s been a week since Miss Prissy came into my life, and what a week it’s been! The first couple of days were easy. Priss was a little uncertain of her new surroundings, and cautious about checking things out. She ate a lot, and slept a lot. When she was awake, she was playful and sweet… and when she decided it was time for a nap, she liked to be in my lap, or at least lying close to me. The only time she seemed to get agitated was when she had to wait for her food bowl to be refilled. Other than that, she wasn’t much trouble at all.
Then she got used to being around us… and unleashed her inner Wild Thing.
Each day, she explored more areas, and more things caught her interest. She’d jump a little higher, play a little harder, get into areas and things she shouldn’t get into… and heaven help the person foolish enough to try to coax her away or stop her from doing something… that unleashed Psycho Prissy.
If I made her stop scratching at the couch? Psycho Prissy decided it was more fun to slash and slice my arms. Take away the cord she was chewing on? No problem, Psycho Prissy would rather bite my hand, anyway. If I was silly enough to wear yoga pants, Psycho Prissy enjoyed taking a leisurely, claw-digging stroll up my leg. If I walked past her and disturbed her playtime, Psycho Prissy had a blast pouncing on my ankle for a quick scratch and bite… which was almost as much fun for her as jumping on my lap, walking over me to sit on my shoulder and smacking me in the face with her tail.
And those are the mildest encounters I had with the Wild Thing. I’ve had cats in the past, but I don’t remember any of them biting and scratching so much in a single week. I’ve got more scratches than I can count! Ouch!
But… she’s still a baby. It’s going to take time to get her settled down and used to living inside. Little as she is, she’s got a lot of fight in her, and I’m sure that’s what kept her alive before we took her in. I can’t expect her to switch that off immediately. And honestly, I don’t really want her to… that’s the sort of thing that makes a cat a good mouser, and when you live in a rural area, the occasional mouse will get in your house. She (briefly) caught one the other day, but it got away. She must have scared the hell out of that mouse, because we haven’t seen hide nor hair of it since, which suits me just fine!
So, yeah… she’s going to drive me a little crazy sometimes. She’s going to scratch or bite sometimes. She’s going to inspire new ways for me to arrange things so she won’t chew on them or possibly hurt herself… and that’s a good thing. I’ll have to get used to looking at the floor when I’m walking in a dim area, so I don’t accidentally step on her.
The good thing is, it’s not constant chaos… even the Wild Thing has to sleep sometimes.