Max Gets a Reality Check

Well, the other shoe has hit the floor with a thud.  Saturday was such a good one as far as Max settling in to life inside the house.  So good, in fact, that he didn't want to go out and we let him sleep on the mat by the front door where he'd curled up. 

At around eleven that night, as I was tucked in bed doing the NYT crossword puzzle on my iPad and gradually falling asleep,  I was catapulted awake by a cat fight taking place under my very nose.  Dear Max, deciding that he wanted to sleep on the bed, had nonchalantly hopped up.  Unfortunately, Mulligan and Arby were already ensconced and they, as already stated, do not share well.  Arby, bless his round furry head never knew what was happening, but Mulligan, who was at the foot of the bed and was almost leaped upon by the completely ignorant Max, went into full-out banshee mode.  She lit into Max, spiky claws flying, like the little six-pound she-devil she is.  Max never knew what hit him and completely freaked out -- the next moment he was flying across the room with a furious Mully hot on his tail, both of them yowling up a blue streak. 

No fool, Max hurriedly left the house and spent the night in the garage.  Within the house, things gradually quieted down.  It took awhile for Mully and Arby to decide climb back into bed.  I was asleep before either one of them came back.  But, by morning, Arby had claimed my pillow, between my head and the headboard, as his own.  I think that he felt safer with my face between himself and any danger.  Meanwhile, Mully was sprawled out, as long as she could make her small body go, over as much bed real estate as she could manage.  Staking her claim.






I'm glad to say that Max appears to have quickly recovered from all of this.  He came inside this morning for breakfast and a bowl of milk.  He appears to be resigned to the fact that becoming an inside cat may take a bit longer than originally anticipated.  He's willing to wait.  Everything will come up right in the end!