Tag: cat

“Mr. Tibbs” – The Gatofeo Saga

“newly arrived”

Mr. Tibbs is an eight month old tuxedo cat we adopted a month ago.  Transition is a mild word for what we are going through, but I am probably exaggerating.  We were used to unassuming “Sister”, our sweet, demur, but singularly unsocial, 11-year old resident cat.  Mr. Tibbs is anything but unassuming.  First of all, he weighs 14lbs.  He just turned eight months.  We think he has rabbit in him, in fact I am sure of it…clumsy rabbit, that is.  Only one broken dish so far, but plenty of leveled pictures, books and memorabilia.  I have cleared the tops of surfaces in hopes to preserve my collectables, and may adopt a more minimalist décor for a while.

058 His agile, destructive gymnastics reminds us how far removed we are from having a young cat.  He’s grown on us, with his plaintive meow, (much like a toddler who wants attention) and his new behavior of covering his food before he walks away from it, something we were not familiar with, but is part of, I read, their instinctual innate behavior.  Translation:  more mess.


Speaking of mess.  There was a few days in the first two weeks, I thought we would exercise our option and return him to the pet store.  The wet bathroom rug is what almost did us (my Marine) in. Cat box crisis.  We had never gone through it before now.  We managed overcome the “outside the box” issue  with an new, improved oversize cat box that I have aptly named the “USS Mess”. Whew!



Sister, tolerates him to a point.  His early morning feedings we are still working on.  I cleared off the left side of my desk because he knocked the phone and TV box off my desk onto the window sill, so he could better see “out there”.  However, he has recently moved to the right side of my desk to nap.  226

Week five and we  are settling into a peaceful co-existence…much like Downton Abbey’s Dowager Countess and Isobel Crawley.

My green eyed girl.

attack cat

“Sister” came to us when we started feeding her mom, who was a dumpster kitty near our apartment. Megan, who was a junior in highschool, chose her brother “Papi” to be our inside cat…but Sister continued to live in the trees and bushes between our apartment complex and the homeowner next door, who had a tobacco field on the other side of open space. We fed her every day. She rewarded us with rubs and her vocalizations, which were less strident than her mom’s.

A month short of the Papi’s and Sister’s second birthday, we bought our home on EvansRidge. Taking Papi out there was no problem. We fed him in the house and let him roam around outside. He had three acres to roam, not to mention making friends across the street and next door. His acclamation was complete when he befriended our neighbors across from us. despite the two Labs penned in their backyard, Papi made himself at home on our neighbor’s front porch swing.

Sister was another matter. I made the mistake of dropping her carryall with her in it when I first tried to transport her from the apartment to EvansRidge. The door spring open from the impact and she high tailed it to the neighbor’s fallow field, a streak of grey against the red clay. I was distraught, believing she would never trust me again, but my husband told me animals have a short memory, and to continue to feed her until the opportunity presented itself to catch her and cage her for transport.

I succeeded in getting Sister in the carrier and to our home. The problem arose when I opened the cage door. She took off into the woods and I figured she was making her way back to the apartment, like one of the pets you hear about on the Animal Planet channel or was made into a Disney movie. I was heartbroken and tried calling her for two days. On the third day, my husband whistled for her, like he whistled for Papi (he never wanted to confuse, Papi, it just came from his history of being a dog owner…I guess he was not going to play favorites!). He called to me, saying he heard her distinctive and plaintive cry in the high grass and sure enough, when we called to her, she came to us.

I brought her in the house after a particularly bad storm and she has been the “house” cat, eating, sleeping and using the cat box, whereas Papi is happily outside. Last couple of winters, she has no problem going out into the elements, whereas Papi becomes a multiple cat box user…he will not go out in the snow, until he can see and his feet can hit the pavement. Go figure.

I am sharing some pictures of my green-eyed girl…you can see the character!