I always knew I wanted another cat, but when I would get him was just a matter of time. I adopted my first cat, Hoagie, a gorgeous gray tuxedo cat with a very classy mustache, four years ago. He was a birthday present to myself.
We lived in a walk up in the East Village that barely had enough room for a chair. Since then, we moved to Brooklyn to a slightly larger one bedroom where Hoagie enjoys staring out the window at pigeons and lounging in the sun. This spring, it felt like the perfect time to adopt another kitty.
I adopted Wylie – named after my current obsession, The Pitt actor Noah Wyle and the iconic cartoon character Wile E. Coyote – last Tuesday, May 29. I took him home in a carrier, listening to his little squeals as I rode silently in an Uber – I’d forgotten my Airpods.
© InstagramBut, you see, this adoption wasn’t like the others I knew well. I grew up with cats in my suburban upbringing in St. Louis, Missouri. When we brought home kittens, we took them to the upstairs bathroom, letting them explore a smaller part of the house before setting them loose.
A quick Google search will tell you that cats need to be separated for a few days before meeting. That’s easier said than done in a small apartment! My Brooklyn home consists of just three rooms – a bedroom, a living room/kitchen, and a bathroom. I needed to be strategic about this meeting. To make sure I didn’t frighten Hoagie while simultaneously making Wylie feel welcome.
When I arrived home, I put Hoagie in my bathroom and rushed Wylie to my bedroom. I closed the door, then released Hoagie, giving him back his space and assuring him that everything was okay.
© InstagramI let Wylie roam my bedroom. He sniffed and mewed. He was always hungry, begging me for food every time I stood up. Hoagie seemed neither thrilled nor upset – except when he saw Wylie’s paw sticking out from under the door. Then, he let out a low growl and his tail doubled in size.
Uh-oh, I thought. This is exactly what the internet warned me about. I placed a blanket at the foot of the door to extend the barrier between the two of them.
This dance – me spending time with both cats in their respective rooms – lasted another day, until Wylie figured out he could run past me when I opened the bedroom door. He is fast and tiny, so he’s very difficult to catch. When he escaped, he ran straight toward Hoagie. And to Hoagie’s credit, he didn’t flinch.
© InstagramI fed them separately (and still do), because Wylie, the crazy cat he is, is desperate for more food. He is like a food vacuum. He climbed into an open pizza box and ate a little cheese, he stuck his head in my latte and left with a milk mustache. Hoagie deserves his meals in peace.
By Thursday morning, I was ready to have my apartment back. It’s one thing to dedicate a room to a pet in a four bedroom home, but in my one-bedroom apartment, I needed the door to remain open.
© InstagramThat morning, I sat on my couch drinking coffee and watched Hoagie and Wylie run around the living room, wrestle, and yes, bat at each other. But, there was no hissing, no growling, and no big tails. They seemed to tolerate, if not like each other.
A week after I brought Wylie home, my two boys snooze near each other, beg me for food at the same time, and chase toys throughout my house. I introduced a kitten to a four-year-old cat in a tiny New York apartment and lived to tell the tale.
