His name is sort of a work in progress. It’s Boo, and I like Boo, but I’ve never had a cat where I kept the birth(?) name. And frankly, as I have opined on many a time, I never call any cat by their given name 99.9% of the time so what’s the point, really?

But as it happens, I am rather obsessed with drag queens and BooPaul just fit. That morphed into Boopaw, then the husband called him Dr. Boo Pinsky, and now I have, without any sort of permission or authority, designated him as Dr. Boopaw Charles the Second. I must note for posterity, however, that the husband has already nixed any rendition of Boopaw and suggested we wait to see what name he belongs to. At this particular moment, that name would be “Hello am terrified pls let me curl up into nothingness.”

As the insane cat person I am, I have been extremely anxious about his arrival. Taco thinks he’s the only cat on the planet and barely tolerated Moosh – despite Moosh having been here first. And, of course, let’s not forget about the elephant in the room (and by elephant I mean Taco) who is…let’s just say…a whole damn mood. Any incoming cat must not be rushed into Taco’s sphere.

The last time we got a new baby was 12 years ago (and by baby I mean the elephant), and we lived in a townhouse with not one, not two, but THREE bathrooms. Sweet baby jesus, I miss having three bathrooms. I would kill someone for just an extra half bath. But that is not the cards we were dealt whence purchasing a home, so we have one rather small bathroom. It’s not suitable for new cat enclosure. For him OR us. And due to whatever moron remodeled this house, or series or morons, we essentially only have three rooms that can be closed off. One is bathroom, already off the list. One is bedroom, the smaller of the remaining two rooms, but it has less windows, which, if you don’t know, is most conducive to sleep. The other is the dumb second bedroom that is really just one room attached to another room that clearly at some point was a sunroom, making for a large but awkwardly separated layout. Too large, I decided, to be a comfortable, safe enclosure for Dr. Boopaw Charles the Second.

I bought a pet tent. This was actually a wonderful idea. He’s in the closed off room but has his own little space with mesh walls where he can get used to smells and sounds but still feel snug. Now, I know that I’ve already mentioned that he is a bit anxy, but I did kind of think that once he was home he’d be “oh, lovely, I’ve arrived, I won the kitty lotto.” Ah, delusions.

He did not speak a word in the car, he did not want to snuggle when he arrived and was freed from the most hated of all devices, the cat carried…he got in the pet tent and purritoed himself into the blanket and said NO THANK YOU DO NOT WANT. So I did what any loving mother would do, and I stole Taco’s scratchy hidey hole thing and put it in there so Dr. BC2 would not need to smother himself to hide. And hide he has.

So that’s where we are. He did warm up slightly today and allowed belly rubs and chin scritchies and even purred, but he still is very much not ready for any of the world outside of his hidey hole. It’s a whole nother post to tell you about Taco/Elephant, but suffice it to say that he doesn’t actually know there’s another cat here, because when he saw the cat carrier he immediately hid under the bed because he’s Taco and the world revolves around him and obvs he must be going to the vet. He is not happy that he’s not allowed in the other room and is very sus, but he’s finally quieted enough to sleep at my feet for now. We’re so not even close to introductions that I can safely place that anxiety away for future use, which is nice, since I have plenty of other anxiety straining for a place in my brain.