Big Brother and Black Cats

Which do you want first: an update on my brother or the cats? Brother, it is.

He sounded much better this morning. A bit of vitality has returned. It must be the two pints of blood they’ve given him. I think those were red blood cells. And today they also gave him platelets. I don’t know much about blood, but I’ve got a feeling I’ll be developing a familiarity over the coming weeks and months. They haven’t done the bone marrow biopsy yet. It’s scheduled for tomorrow morning. I asked him how soon they’ll have the results, and he told me, “Let’s just worry about getting the test done. Then we’ll focus on the results.” That was a nice way of telling me to chill the hell out. So after we hung up, I got on the Internet and researched bone marrow transplants and the chances I’d be a match. It looks like about 35 percent odds a sibling will be a match. So if he needs it, maybe we’ll get lucky. See how well I chill out? At least I didn’t mention it to him. Instead I sent him flowers. White and yellow daisies and roses in a yellow smiley face mug. Daisies are happy flowers.

image He called me tonight sounding up. The flowers seem to have cheered him. I then told him I had a very important question to ask him. His voice became serious.

“Okay. What is it?”

“Which cat do you think will be cat two in the hierarchy, Sally or Sophie?”

“Sophie. She’s younger and will be more aggressive in establishing her new territory.”

Interesting perspective. And despite tonight’s kitty events, it’s still an open question.

Which brings me to topic two: Black cats.

Sophie no longer hides in the closet. Instead she’s taken to waiting by her tuna saucer when I enter. It didn’t take her long to come to expect two square meals a day. Tonight she was very affectionate. She soaked up the petting, purring up a storm and drooling. Have I told you she’s a drooler? Yes, Sophie drools big giant droplets when she’s purring and happy. It’s cute, but a little messy.

Because she was in rare form tonight, I opened her safe room door and left it open. It wasn’t long before Sadie sauntered in. At that time, Sophie was having a bath in the closet. Not hiding, mind you. She was simply bathing after her supper. Sadie didn’t see her as she sniffed about. In fact, she walked right past her. I turned Sadie around so that they were face-to-face. Sadie finally realized Sophie was right under her over-stimulated nose and let out a couple of hisses. They seemed a bit half-hearted to me, and Sophie didn’t appear ruffled. She didn’t hiss back. Sadie walked out the door, hissing a few more times as she left the room. There was no spitting or aggression. No fur flew. It was a bit anti-climactic. So I decided to push my luck and left the door wide open.

Sadie had wandered off to the other end of the hall and set up post there. Sophie watched her from under the dresser. Suddenly, Sophie jumped up, darted out the door in the opposite direction of Sadie, sniffed the guest bath, darted the other direction toward Sadie, stopped, turned, and ran back into her safe room. I left the door wide open for several more minutes, but she had completed her foray for the day. So we went back to petting, purring, and drooling.

This weekend I shall plonk them together as suggested by a fellow blogger, and see if my brother is right that Sophie will become number two on the hierarchy.


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