Wednesday, meet Berlioz.

Wednesday was here first.

And she won’t let anyone ever forget this. Especially Berlioz.

Wednesday was about 5 when Berlioz arrived on the scene, a mere 3 month old kitten.

Wednesday had been an only child for 2 years. She ran this place – the beds were all hers (including ours). The laps were all hers. The food was all hers. She was fine with this. Except that she often attacked her own tail and seemed to have some anxiety. And she bit us. All the time. But she stayed away from the plants, didn’t try to eat any people food, and only destroyed one particular spot on the couch. Not too shabby, for an odd-eyed cat from the streets of Philadelphia.

But that all changed in July of 2018. I was anxious to introduce Berlioz to her. He was upbeat, had no fear, and loved to be near people and other cats. This was not Wednesday. It’s not that she’s unfriendly – she enjoys being in a room where people are and she is not afraid. She’s just kind of aloof. She likes her space, and is going to let you know when she’s had enough of you being in it. Berlioz had no concept of this, and I knew this would be trouble. But I hoped his extroverted-ness and naiveté would rub off on her, and that her laid back persona and chill attitude would rub off on him, to form one perfect Uber-Cat.

Nope.

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Haters gonna hate.

It was certainly not love at first site. Well, that’s not entirely true. For Berlioz, it was love at first site. For Wednesday, it was more like hate. For about a week, it was absolute torture. She hissed. She growled. She hid. But he kept coming back like nothing happened. He tried to love her. He tried to play with her. He thought they were best friends. I don’t know if she got tired of fighting, or actually found his persistence charming – but one day, without warning, she had a change of heart.

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Acceptance.

And best friends they became.

A cat has absolute emotional honesty. Human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.

— Ernest Hemmingway