Don Juan Seamus De Marco, or Mr. Personality (Pt.2) Meeting Kazi

After meeting his closest neighbors, life was good for Seamus. He went out for an hour or so several times a week, usually with Marcie and the laundry, jumping around and attempting to climb the sheets.

There were wrinkles, such as his obstinacy about slipping off any collar, flea or otherwise, causing us havoc with pest control. Otherwise everything was working out well. He was a happy kitten and he had Dodger and Tatiana for company at times.

He had begun settling into being a mixed outside-inside kitty and he had even gotten his own territory, a stairwell to our neighbor, Cammy's, front door. It was prime real estate. It was high up and came with a treat source.

Cammy, a cat lover, had no cat of her own. She spoiled Seamus endlessly with snacks and tuna. Marcie was immediately suspicious of her.

"She's going to steal him, honey, I know it," she said. "She is totally in love with him and he is going to disappear when she moves away."

As irrational and over the top as that thought was, it was not unheard of for cats to adopt multiple families or households that chose to favor them with food. So, it was a great relief to us when Cammy appeared one afternoon to introduce a new friend.

It was a great moment for Seamus, too.

We are told that cats do not have romance in their relations. Cats, we are told, have a simple range of instinctual reactions only loosely analogous to our own feelings.

But Seamus, I assert nonetheless, fell instantly in love with Kazi, Cammy's new girl, a little calico kitten.

When Cammy opened her door that day, Seamus ran up the steps with his usual aplomb. But when he saw another kitten up there, he froze and slinked upward slowly.

"Mow!" said the little puff of spit and vinegar, landing a spread paw on his nose and making him back off, one paw off the ground as if pointing.

There was a tense, tail-twitching standoff on the porch as I came up the steps. Kazi kept batting at Seamus as he came close, Seamus swatted back. Cammy looked on.

As I pet him, Kazi became curious at his purring. He raised a paw and she rolled onto her back on one of the steps. He instantly darted in.

"Seamus!" I shouted, catching his attention only a bit.

He sniffed Kazi's foot, then pawed at her, rolling her aside a bit, sniffing her back and ribs a bit as she tried to push him away. Then he licked her, just as I tried to pick him up.

"Mow!" she protested, both her paws pushing on his head and driving his face effectively into her belly.he continued to clean her.

I tried to pick him up but when I did, I noted he was purring and let him be, stroking his head and smiling.

"He likes her!" Cammy said. "Oh, that's adorable."

Marcie came up the steps and watched. "Cuuuuuute," she said, kneeling down in her skirt and petting him.

I decided the scene was entirely too "fluffy bunny" for me and walked down. I was not alone long.

Seamus flew down the steps, hair raised and tail puffed, skidding in a turning stop as Kazi pursued in a hopping gait. He turned his head a little excitedly, then tore off the other way. Kazi tried to follow and lost her footing.

Seamus returned and tackled her, then rolled away and darted off again, ears fully forward. It was the beginning of an hour-long frolic.

For the first time ever, we slept in peace that night. Seamus was too exhausted to attack our feet or yell at us on the bed. He simply plopped at the end of it and, I imagine, considered his boon, a lively playmate up a favorite set of stairs.

Later, she was much more, to Marcie and my chagrin.