My new cat “Sean Connery” making biscuits

Today I took my new kitty, “Sean Connery” (it’s his working name until I post a poll which is another story on why not yet), to my vet to get his file started, make sure he’s still OK and find a solution to his anxiety. This poor guy has spent his initial time hiding because he’s mysteriously stressed out and frightened. The other, older, sweetheart cat Isis doesn’t even bother him nor seeks him out. However, I wish cats could talk to some extent. I’d ask Isis to talk to “Sean” and let him know, hey, you’re in paradise! Picture it now, Isis talking, saying, “Dude. It’s great here! There’s plenty of food, water, windows to stare out of and comfortable places to sleep. Get this part. The giant, noisy ape cleans up your poop!”

Upon returning to the house, “Sean” fled back to my bed’s underside. He cries and growls less. Even eats the treats I send. They also clipped his nails so he’ll do less damage when I try to retrieve him.

The campaign to win his trust will continue but now I have cat xanax to lessen whatever the hell is bothering him.

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