This little guy continues to amaze me.
Last night, we hosted David's twin nephews and one of their wives (Kurt's wife and two children are in Germany for most of the summer, visiting her family, and he's been here for a few days). Mr. Caruso was curled up on the love seat, which has become 'his' place in the living room, when they arrived, and I was sure he'd disappear in a streak of gray fur as soon as he heard their voices. But I was dead wrong - he sat in his spot, calm as could be, and even let Kevin scritch his ears! He stayed out of his hide-y hole for the most of the evening, letting everyone pet him, purring up a storm, and behaving as if he's always lived here.
At one point, he was sitting under the table and I came into the room, called his name, and he popped out from under the table and walked over to me, tail held high, obviously glad I'd returned.
He's a courageous little guy, and I'm so, so grateful that the folks at Animal Aid trust me enough to let him live with us.
Now all we have to do is convince Harley, the o-so-irritable tortoise-shell princess, that Caruso has as much right to roam the house as she does. With luck, this will happen some time in the next, oh, decade or so.
He seemed a bit more nervous and skittish this morning, and I'm wondering if the months he and his fellow kitties spent alone when his guardian was in and out of the hospital has scared him enough that a prolonged absence of humans (like when we sleep) scares him into thinking we're gone and won't come back? Or am I anthropomorphizing just a little bit here?