Introducing Van Heflin and George (The Boyos)

Van Heflin (left) and George

The new members of the household came together accidentally. I promised myself I would not look for another cat until Akroyd had been adopted. I fostered him for a month, watch his fur turn shiny and his infections calm down. 

Unfortunately, this poor foster cat had FIV, and that lack of immunity left him susceptible to a painful cancer that required euthanasia two months later. 

I was crushed and felt physically ill from the sadness. Even then, I could not rush on a cat decision. But Wild Blue brings in too many cats for slow decisions. When the right one arrives, you just know.  

One Monday in May, I met George. He had just entered the rescue but showed no signs of violent inclinations or overstimulation. I could pet him for hours and he would not complain. A week later, VanLeer came back to the rescue. He had been adopted from the rescue as a kitten and was returned at age 4. But he showed no signs of aggression to me. I had to shove him through the cat door that he could not figure out, and he did not hold it against me. 

Most importantly, I noticed that George and Van seemed to accept each other. They sat next to each other on the cat towers. They had no problems coexisting. They had even temperaments, far from the acrimony I knew with Percy. On an afternoon with descending temperatures, I shoved Van through the cat door had no clue to use. He did not fight me when most cats would have taken offense. 

Seeing them together settled my mind. I realized I was adopting two cats. 

Belly pics are essential 

They both have names to which they respond. It would be selfish to change them when they already know who they are. I call him Van but decided Van Heflin would be his full name. However, he has prominent fangs, and having Van stand in for Van Helsing seemed delightfully appropriate. For about 24 hours after introduction, I barely saw them. I put out food that disappeared when I didn’t look. 

At Hour 26, I called their names, and George presented a voice he never revealed at the rescue. George had all sorts of calls, yowls and warbles he would use at me. I liked him even more. 

Fond of playing with carrot

 Don’t let Van’s quiet nature think I favor one over the other. Van sits next to me all morning while I work, begging for pets and waiting for me to fire up the laser pointer. Eventually he retreats to one of the cat towers, or sitting in the office chair that Percy once dominated.

The split the difference on many issues. George is a voracious eater of wet food. Van prefers dry food. George is highly vocal. Van only speaks at me when he wants something. Van chases the red dot of the last pointer as furiously as he goes after any fly or moth misfortunate enough to enter the house. George could care less about the dot, but he will groom to the tune of whatever music I play, carrying on a tradition firmly established by Percy. 

 Not everything has gone perfectly. Van destroyed the undersides of my couches and my bed’s box spring. Sometimes I sit down and hear springs go off as he squeezes into the couch. He does this less as the two of them acclimate to my house. Sometimes I find George lying on the fabric torn out of the bottom of the box spring. I could complain, but if I replace them, they would start tearing something newer. 

Prove him wrong

They have multiple sleeping spots and don’t need to quarrel over litter boxes. As for the sleeping spots, I often sneak next to them on the bed or couch in the afternoon when I feel the need for a nap. Neither makes any concerted effort to escape when outside doors open. The interest exists, as one will wait for me anytime I go outside either door, but there’s no mad dash when I open it again. Van keeps trying to sneak out, but never gets past the back stoop. 

 George’s owner surrendered him when he grew violent with another cat after the house’s senior cat died. Sometimes upsetting the balance in cat relationships can turn ugly. The surrendering owner was heartbroken. I won’t go into the circumstances, but it hurt him to give up the cat he raised from a kitten, and he made a major donation to cat rescue to find George a good home. 

 Van also grew aggressive with newly introduced kittens, and as the older cat, he lost out. George’s owners were genuinely crushed at having to give him up, but I felt as if Van got a raw deal – people who bring in kittens where they already have cats never keep the older cat. 

 Van also shows some mild aggressive tendencies towards George, trying to dominate him. When I hear a scrum in the other room, I frequently find Van with light fur on his jowls, evidence of his misbehavior. I shake my head at him and don’t yell when George howls at night. I hope my duplex neighbors don’t hear. I suspect he howls after his removal from the only home he knew. I might howl for such a reason. But George isn't talking.  

 Yet sometimes I find them sleeping just inches apart, feet almost touching. Then there is hope. I went from several months of no cats to two since they got along and both sport friendly personalities. Since they are older, we probably won’t get 15 years, maybe a decade at best. But I shouldn’t worry about that; it’s residue from losing Percy so suddenly. They are pleasant fellows most of the time, so I’ll enjoy whatever years we have ahead.