Enter Vince

The kids and I picked up Vince last night from the animal shelter and took him home. I didn’t want him to get too overwhelmed, so I put the pet carrier in the bathroom and left the door open, figuring he would come out when he was feeling comfortable.

About twenty minutes later, he was still hiding out in the carrier. It’s one of those two-piece things, so I unlatched the top, leaving him exposed.

He immediately went and hid under the commode.

Ten minutes passed.

Sam decided that Vince didn’t like us.

I assured him that the cat was just a little scared but deep down he really was very happy to be here. I went in and picked Vince up, bringing him out and setting him down in the hallway, so he could see there was a lot more to the place than just the bathroom.

He immediately went into my room and hid under the bed.

Another twenty minutes passed.

Julia crawled under the bed to pet him.

Vince backed up to the opposite side of the bed.

She got out and went around.

He moved again. So did she. A gentle dance slowly took shape — her blithe optimism perfectly balanced against his utter disinterest.

Sam moped on the bed, dangling a listless rubber mouse on a length of yarn but without much hope.

I crawled under the bed and got Vince out.

The three of us sat on the bed and scratched his back and tummy, all four of us very happy.

Vince hopped down and went under the bed again.

I got him out and carried him up into the front room, thinking he might want to look out the window. It’s a nice, three-facet window seat and it’s one of the reasons I picked the apartment.

Vince immediately hid behind the couch.

Julia peeked at him over the side, cooing sweetly.

He slinked his way across the floor to hide under the television. A few minutes later he was back under the bed.

I had to take the kids home to their mom’s, so the three of us laid on the floor and said goodnight to Vince, huddled over on the far side of the bed.

When I got back, he was still there. I sat on the floor with a beer and a book in the hopes that he might figure out that I’m not that bad a guy.

No dice.

Keeley came over to meet him. I told her that he’d probably be too scared to come out on his own. She poked her head under the bed and made some kind of little Keeley voice at him and almost immediately he came out to say hello and get a rubdown.

Vince has little round ears — he lost the tips due to frostbite — and a scar on his right flank from where something took a bite out of him.

He’s very cute.

Very, very timid and somehow fragile.

It must have been rough, living as a stray in the winter. He’s lucky to be alive at all. They damn near put him down when he was brought in.

For about an hour or so, he slinked around the apartment exploring everything and jumping at every little noise or movement. He practically crawled everywhere, like he was going to be pounced on by some sort of bird of prey. It was nice to see him finally walk upright and calm down a bit.

Just before I went to sleep, he started wandering around the apartment, crying out every few seconds. This went on for about a half-hour or so. He’d make a loop, meowing in little bursts, and then quiet down. A few minutes later he’d start up again.

Eventually I locked him in the bathroom for the night. That worked great until five o’clock this morning when he decided he’d had enough. I got up and made some tea and, to paraphrase David Mamet, reflected on the fact that no one forced me to get a cat last night.

Vince was hiding in Sam and Julia’s room when I left for work this morning.

I kind of wonder what he’s been up to all day.

I bet the little bastard’s been sleeping, to rest up for tonight’s pageant.

So.

That’s Vince.