We had made the decision to get a buddy for Baker last month but the crop of kitties at the time had not been ripe.  Then they were too ripe, and we missed the harvest.  But wait long enough - like, a day - and several more kittens will show up at your local shelter or vet's office.

In fact, why don't you take 2 minutes right now and donate just a little something to the ASPCA?  Grab yer credit card - I promise, it'll be quick and painless.  (Finish reading when you're done, Scout would want you to.)

So last weekend, we called our vet to check in, and there were in fact a couple of female kittens available that day for viewing.  A few hours and yet another awkward social worker / crazy-cat-lady / crazy-lady-period encounter later, we plopped down our down payment on a brand new 2009 "Zander" (aka Scout).  Because she was getting over an upper respiratory infection, she would stay at the vet another night or two, until they felt it was good for her to leave, and expose another kitty.  That turned out to be quick enough, and we took her home the following Monday.

Here's how the whole thing went down...

Monday
"Baker, meet Scout, she's your new sister!"
"HSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!"

We kept them separated the whole time.  Scout went right into the bedroom with the door closed, and Baker stayed outside.  It took her about a half hour to smell around the room and eventually start coming right to us, purring and playing.  She was definitely excited to have a big new home.  She was definitely not a fan of either her mirror self ("She knows my every move! Quick! Side-winder position with inflated tail!") or the mysterious hisses and moans from under the bedroom door, apparently from a beast not of her world.

On the other side of the door, Baker rarely entered the adjacent hallway, instead hiding two rooms away in the kitchen.  Sitting behind the door frame, he watched intently and - I think - a little scared.  Despite having seen her diminished presence in an hall-like open door viewing attempt, he seemed frazzled by this creature's complete absence of defense and willingness to charge the 9-pound razor-fest that is Mr. Baker-doodle.

Progress: 5% (just for getting her home)

Tuesday
After a morning of the same feline relations, and a night of little sleep (per Scout's love of sitting on faces, running around all night, nibbling on fingertips, and purring at pneumatic riveter-like levels directly in our ears), we thought we'd try a baby step forward at night.

It should be said that we had been moving forward with only the internet and about 7 conflicting stories, accounts, and suggestions from family, friends, and vets.  While the internet told us to take it slow and that the very first encounter(s) would be "slow", "critical", and "psychologically, potentially catastrophic" if handled incorrectly, firsthand suggestions were often along the lines of "just throw 'em in a room and let the fur fly".  Siding on caution, we opted for the slow and steady path - which was quickly killing us.

Progress: 10% (for doing roughly the same thing as Monday)

Wednesday
When I woke up the next morning and entered the kitchen, Baker seemed much more eager to approach the still-closed bedroom door, without instantly hissing at the mere smell of Scout on the other side.  Leaving it closed and drinking my coffee, he occasionally shuttled back and forth, content enough.

Of course, once my caffeine started sinking in and began perverting my brain, I thought, "Well, shoot, I think Baker wants to see his sleeping Momma so bad, he wouldn't reckon a kitty too poorly."  (My brain thinks like a cowboy in the morning.  It's complicated.)  So I got up and went to the bedroom door, as Baker sat an appropriate distance away, watching wide-eyed at what lie on the other side.  It, of course, was Scout, who very eagerly ran full-speed at Baker, who very eagerly ran full-speed in the opposite direction.  A lightning-fast 7 seconds later, I had Scout back in the bedroom with the door closed, and Baker waited with me at the computer for Amber to get up.

When we both got home from work that night, we decided to try something new.  I had read someone's suggestion on the internet that catnip worked really well in numbing the defensive resident cat.  Baker is a huge fan, so I picked up a tub from Sammy, our awesome neighborhood Syrian pet store owner, along with some extra treats ("treat them all positively and normally, as you move forward", the internet said).  Amber got home, we got Baker stoned (not the kitty, it's not good for them), and had a few controlled sessions together in the living room.  With Scout on Amber's lap and Baker rolling in 'nip on the floor, we got them about 2 feet apart, with Baker only periodically hissing, but always looking at Scout.  Scout got more and more limp and Baker got more and more aggressive, so we cut our losses, and called it a night.

Progress: 30%

Thursday
Thanksgiving morning, and we were headed for Long Island.  Between packing and cleaning, we didn't really try much in the way of integration; we just started the 2+ days of unsupervised indirect assimilation, with Scout all set up in the bedroom, the door closed, and Baker all set (as usual) in the rest of the house.  We figured the worst that could happen would be Baker gets a real swipe or two under the door and nicks Scout, who doesn't approach the door again until we get home.  But even that was unlikely, as Baker had only swatted Scout clawlessly in their few close encounters.  So, out of sight and out of mind, we left the cats to smell each other for a few days.  (Ironically, this is exactly how Blondie and I first got together.)

Progress: ???

Friday
Who the hell knows, but presumably there was ample under-door hissing and swatting.

Progress: ???

Saturday
We got home from Long Island to a house of two cats who each wanted very much to be held and loved - which is exactly the opposite of what we expected.  We were envisioning bathrooms exploded with litter and stressed out kitty-bowels, priceless vases angrily pushed off of mantles, satanic messages written on the walls in blood.  Instead we got eager cuddles and purrs.  And when it came time to check on Scout, Baker stoically braved the hallway for the door to open and close again.

The details of the hours that followed are a little blurry, but not long after we had gotten home, we were sitting on the couch together with the bedroom door open and two cats running around the house together.  There was a bit of hissing, and occasional swat or two, and a lot of chasing and hiding, but no real drama to speak of.  Baker never got violent; Scout never got brazen.  And towards the end of the night, they were getting periodically close enough to give good, deep sniffs of each others butts, mostly without any noises at all.  While we still took Scout in the bedroom to sleep overnight, we slept feeling really good about our prospects.

Progress: 65%

Sunday
Breakthrough!  We start the day with a wide open door, in hopes of riding Saturday's coattails of successful socialization.  The morning is filled with running and chasing and allowed explorations of each others' areas: litterboxes, blanket-beds, food bowls, etc.  There's a hiss here and there, but it's all pretty cordial.  We even run out briefly and leave them together.

By early afternoon, we've got them goofing around comfortably, casually, and closely, and at some point, sleeping on the couch on opposite ends.  Before we knew it, the last remaining walls of hesitation and doubt had fallen, and we had ourselves a good 'ol fashioned Cuddle Puddle (TM) on the couch.  There's still a rogue hiss here and there, but for the most part, the humans are melted and the kitties are happy siblings.

Now that I'm thinking about it, it's incredibly quiet in this apartment right now.  Too quiet...

Eric: "If it wasn't for episode 5 turning things around, I would've stopped watching.  But I'm glad I didn't.  It's not as 'gritty' as people make it out to be - it's no Sopranos - but it's very addictive and entertaining."
Amber: "McGarnicle!!!"