Day 5 of Living with Gramsci, and we felt that the time had come to leave the house for dinner at our local, Arable: a particularly wonderful cold green soup, and Gramsci - and Moth - were toasted in Chablis. This morning, we - well, I can only speak for myself - were plummeted into gloom that somehow the Introduction of a Kitten would never work; that Moth (who met him in the living room this morning, and hissed) would never accept him. But we had a more organized play session this afternoon: that is, Gramsci played with a rustling catnip-favored simulacrum of a tiny fish sandwich, and Moth looked on with a kind of benign tolerance for a while as he - he's a sociable kitten - played closer and closer, and only hissed, and only in a piss-off-out-of-my-space way, when he jumped on the sofa to say Hi! Poor Gramsci - however much he's enjoying bonding with humans, and he is - he would really appreciate a feline friend. He's never known life as an Only Cat, and this isn't in his plan. But I felt more optimistic this evening than I did earlier ... [below: bonding ...]
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