During MishMish’ trip to the vet for spaying and shots we found out the reason for what my daughter called “nasty fur” – worms. Once de-wormed, MishMish’s fur became lush and reminded me of apricot swirl ice cream. Even my daughter had to admit that she was attractive.
But now MishMish’s friendliness was in question. Recovering from her operation, she chose to hide under the basement couch. When she did emerge, and encountered our tuxedo cat, Peter, she bristled and hissed so, that he retreated to the bedrooms, whimpering and quaking in fear. Obviously Peter had no clue that he was three times her size. The two cats made peace—actually, merely a truce—only after we kept them in separate parts of the house for three weeks. My prayers to Saint Francis probably helped too.
Since my son, Joe, was Peter’s main man, MishMish never warmed up to him. They developed a stand-off relationship much like that of Peter and MishMish.
Joe would enter a room and say, “Mish!”
Mish would answer with an angry, “Meh!”
Joe would repeat and so would MishMish until one of them grew tired of the game.