Dear Einstein,

I stay at home all day by myself and there’s not much to do. Dad won’t even leave the TV on so I can watch the BRAVO Channel. Today, since he didn’t give me a Honey-Do list, I decided to redecorate the house. Did he ever get PO’d when he came home and saw my latest personal touch. I created some elegant sun openings in the curtains, ventilated the easy chair and carpeted the bathroom with toilet paper. The Queer Eye designer would love it, but Dad doesn’t. He seems to prefer Art Deco. Maybe I should take some interior design classes to hone both my decorating skills and my claws. I think I’m best prepared to study Shabby.

Oh yeah, he also objects to my ankle ambush hunting practice in the hall. You think he’d appreciate the fact that this home is almost an ankle-free zone.

- Honey of Feline Eye For the Two-Legged Guy

Hey Sweetie,

It sounds like you have way too much time on your paws. This is one area where I don’t have this problem; I’m always busy around the office rearranging important papers and editing my human’s articles. Like a human teenager at home all day without supervision, if your dad doesn’t give you something to do, you’ll come up with your own way to occupy your spare time. Looks like you have.

The answer to your decorating disagreement could be the furthest thing from your dad’s mind: you may need an interior collaborator. Another kitty will give you someone to confer with—someone who might be more in tuned with Dad’s architectural taste. And, instead going after your dad’s ankles, you can practice your predatory prowess your new buddy.

Dad can minimize potential problems, or even eliminate them, by choosing the right cat-panion, and like a good southern gentleman, performing proper introductions. Remember, cats get along better when everyone has been spayed or neutered.

Also, he might want to offer you some comfort, or rather some Comfort Zone. It’s a plug-in diffuser like the ones people use to make the house reek like roses or ocean breeze. But, instead of stinking up the place, it smells like kitty cheeks—the cheeks on the front, not the back ones. Since we kitties are so territorial, we mark stuff with our personal graffiti. Sometimes we spray pee on a wall or tree to warn intruders this place is, “Mine, mine, mine.” But when we rub our cheeks on table leg or even a human leg, the graffiti reads like a 1960s demonstration sign, “Peace & Love! Let’s Be Friends.” We seldom we spray something we’ve marked with our cheeks. So this Comfort Zone thing makes the room you hang out in smell like, “I wanna get along.”

When your dad interviews decorating assistants, he needs to respect your personality and activity level. If you’re shy, he shouldn’t bring home an assertive, in-your-face type hoping to bring you out of your shell. You’d probably just set up your office under the bed or in the back of the closet. And bringing in a shy guy to tone down a take-charge cat is invitation for you to bully the newcomer.

Dear Old Dad might consider a kitten, because kittens haven’t developed a sense of territory, so a little guy's probably going to be less intimidating to you. But kittens aren’t for everyone. Small fries come with all that unrestrained energy and an annoying lack of personal boundaries. There’s a good chance he may become a royal pain in the tail, especially if you’re a senior kitty. An older cat would be happier with a cat closer to his own age, temperament and energy level.

Whatever your age, your dad should look for a sociable type who’s friendly and not aggressive around other kitties. Shelter staff can tell him which kitty candidate gets along the best with other cats and who has lived happily in multi-cat homes. Dad should watch the cats hang out with each other and try to find one with a personality similar to yours. Some people think girl kitties get along better with guys, but as long as everyone has been spayed and neutered respectively, I don’t think it makes much difference.

For your protection, The New Guy needs to get some stylish body piercing. Nothing ostentatious, just current shots and blood testing for diseases like feline leukemia. A vet should check him out for upper respiratory infections and parasites so he doesn’t bring you a housewarming gift.

When Dad brings your new friend home, he should sequester Junior to a warm, quiet room along with his own food and water bowls, litter box, and something soft to lay on.
Here’s the good part: you get a really special treat like a small piece of turkey, chicken or tuna. Woohoo. Now Honey, I know nothing’s going to get past you. You’ll immediately realize that the house is abuzz with that new cat smell. You’ll be obligated to stare indignantly at the bathroom door, adding an occasional growl or hiss. If Dad’s smart, he’ll ignore your carrying on. He’ll also remember, that you’re the cat in charge. You still get lots of playtime and your feeding and box-cleaning schedule should stay the same.

As the old adage goes, “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” That’s never been so true as when introducing cats for the first time. Some cats simply hate each other at first sight, never to be reversed. Dad can prevent territorial aggression altogether by introducing you gradually—very gradually—and by plying you with turkey whenever you come in contact with Junior. Patience can make the difference between forever friends and lifelong foes.

After drowning you in yummies, Dad should return to the new cat’s room, open the carrier door and stand back. Junior may just wait until he’s alone before venturing out; he might even hide behind the toilet. The new kitty will eventually come ambling out when he’s ready. Dad should check on him every few hours and visit with him. Talk to him while he scoops the box. If Junior’s amiable to it, pick him up. If he doesn’t make advances himself, Dad can just talk to him.

The best way to get to know your future best friend is to check out each other’s scent through the crack at the bottom of the door. Play footsie. Better still, share a meal on either side of the closed door. (See, the Junior’s associating your scent with food, too. Win-win.)

Junior can go for a supervised walkabout when he’s strolling around the bathroom with his tail up. (A certain Sweetie should be put up so she doesn’t get her whiskered kinked up, if you know what I mean.) However, when the door opens, if Junior stares out, as if to say, “Have you lost your flea-infested mind?”—let him be. Let him explore his new home at his own pace. Forcing a timid cat into the house will just make him more withdrawn. When he goes out on those short excursions, you get to go in his bathroom and eat, and not just everyday food. I mean really special food—something you only get on important occasions like birthdays or when you bag an extra big rat. This way, you’re associating yummy food with Junior’s scent. It’s like that guy Pavlov’s dog, except when you smell Junior you’ll know something yummy’s going to happen. While you’re in his room you can cheek mark graffiti all over the place so Junior guy knows that Kilroy, or Honey, was here. After he’s been running around for a few minutes, Dad can switch y’all back to your regular stations. As he becomes more confident and knows where the litter box is, you two can swap stations for longer periods.

Now it’s possible that you two could get off on the wrong paw. If the very scent of the new cat sends your hackles up, Dad should try rubbing a clean washcloth along the other kitty’s back and put it under your food bowl. Hmm. Even your food smells like Junior. And while Dad’s doing this towel-smell thing, he can rub you with one cloth and the other guy with another. Then swap cloths for another rubdown. Suddenly, things no longer smell black and white, so to speak. Now the intruder smells like you and you’re wearing the new guy’s scent. It’s all so confusing.

Next, Dad will wedge the bathroom door open (about an inch) from the inside with doorstops. You two can safely check each other out. This is another good time to get the treats out. He shouldn’t open the door any wider until you two can eyeball each other without fur flying.

Or you could come eye-to-eye with Junior safely confined to a carrier in the middle of a room. Of course, you’re obligated to act appropriately indignant, stare threateningly, hiss, and maybe even growl. Junior returns the honors. When you act calm, your dad should tell you what a wonderful cat you are and give you some of those special treats. After that, he sequesters the new guy again. Later he can repeat the performance for a longer period (and more treats.) You might decide that all these treats are a great deal and accept the newcomer quickly; or it could take weeks.

When the time feels right, the carrier or bathroom door opens and you meet nose-to-nose. Hissing’s okay; spitting’s okay, but if things turn ugly, the greenhorn should go packing to his room. There’s always later (and more treats). Your dad should go back to the last successful stage, then start moving forward again.

Rule number one: No cheating on you. Dad shouldn’t pet the rookie while you’re around. Quite the reverse, you get all the praise and the treats. When you two are actually out and together, he should give you separate bowls and feed you across from each other—but not too close. This reinforces the idea that something good happens when the new guy’s around. After you finish with your snack, junior returns to his room.

To prevent territorial disputes, each cat needs his own litter box, food and water bowls and several comfortable sleeping spots. In multi-cat homes, there should be a litter box for each cat plus one for the road. Since cats mark territory with pee and poop, boxes should be scooped everyday.

You two shouldn’t be left alone together until you’re really friends. You know, when you start realizing the new guy could stand a bath and you accommodate him, or when you snuggle up together for a nap. Better still, when you start collaborating on redecorating the living room.