Cat wars

This is a memoir from 18 months ago when, overcome by guilt about my cat's solitary and flat-bound existence, we adopted another female cat, Mimi. She was a well-loved, older long-haired smoky-grey cat whose owner had developed a physiological allergy to her dander, was loathe to let her go, but thought it for the best. Mimi was gorgeous although eczemous, and unlike resident cat Noushka had a purr and prediliction for sitting on laps. She was to our thinking an ideal foil and domestic balance to Nush's very independent nature.

Before we brought Mimi home, I had an arcadian vision of two catgirls curling up on the sofa together and enjoying an affectionate feline relationship. I knew enough that I didn't expect this bonding to happen overnight, and was prepared for a careful gradual introduction and a slow accommodation.



The cats were separated, and after petting Mimi would make every effort to dispense the same attention to Nush in her area. The problem was that Nush had a visceral response to the smell of other cats that made her tear at our hands and arms, so long as they smelled of Mimi. As time went on, she spent more and more time prowling outside poor Mimi's door yowling and growling. Not good, but we were prepared to be patient and continued with the vet-recommended gradual introduction prgram, involving opening the doors separating the cats just a crack to allow safe but gradual acclimitisation.

Nush was spending most of her time patrolling the threshold of Mimi's territory before we opened the door a crack, but as soon as we attempted this Noush became a furball of feline aggression and would hurl herself at the door to have a go even while Mimi, on the other side, retreated to the top of bookcases. Much time was spent calming Mimi with attention and claps (Scots for petting, which she appreciated), and the same to Nush, who became serially more aggressive towards any human contact whether it smelled of Mimi or not. We became used to washing hands between cat contacts, but this did nothing to assuage Nush's vitriol, and she became a creature obsessed, stalking poor Mimi's smell wherever she came across it, even though the two cats remained physically if not olfactorily isolated.

As expected from internet advice, there was no immediate bonding and Mimi's entrance evoked a powerful territorial response from Nush, who assumed a hissing spitting attitude as soon as Mimi's smell was sensed. Never mind, we thought- these things take time, and as suggested by vets kept the two cats isolated in separate ends of the house while they became acquainted with each other's smells, if not face to face contact. Mimi, a sedate dowager kitty, was quite happy to settle in to her bit of the house and appeared to be bonding with humans. However, Nush was incensed from the word go and despite extra individual time and attention, spent all her time hunting Mimi's smell as she does mice. It became an obsession, so Noush prowled and paced outside Mimi's door, awaiting an opportunity to pulp her. Both of them would growl and hiss at each othera' scents through the door, but Nush ws discernably the aggressor as home Top Cat.

After 2 weeks of this, it was time to take things further and allow limited physical contact, even if aggressive. And by God it was. As soon as the separating door was opened, Nush was in there like a vampire bat from hell looking for Mimi's blood. The first 5 minute encounter had Mimi demonstrating an athleticism never before witnessed in her arthritic older physique, to get to the highest and most inaccessible place. It wasn't a good auger, and of course the contact was immediately constrained to limit stress on both cats till later gradual introductions could be contemplated.

Contemplate we did, and several experiments of smell contact and cat contact were briefly attempted over the succeeding 2 weeks, to no avail. Mimi appeared to be open to a relationship of mutual ignorance and segregation, but Nush, incensed by territorial incursion, could *not get over it*. We tried repeatedly to have supervised open doors for the next month, but Nush was having none of it and never failed to register smell outrage and to aim for the jugular whenever presented an open opportunity for a catfight.

A further 2-3 weeks of limited introduction were attempted before we realised it wasn't going to work out. There was a real willingness on our (human) part to make it work, but Nush was a cat possessed, obsessed and intent on murder. There was also the duty to protect Mimi from a viscous hellcat, and after 4-6 weeks total it was clear it wasn't going to work out.

A Cat Protection friend who's adopted an integrated team of 4 mixed-gender housecats tells me that we might succeed better with a big tom who could physically (if not temperamentally) kick Nush's butt, but I have sincere doubts. Nush doesn't seem to want friends, and her psychology fixates on owning us, not being owned, perhaps our initial misconception. Plus, flat conditions limit the opportunities for separate territories as outdoor cats might negotiate. I reckon she's institutionally incapable of sharing, but if any others have advice for facilitating happy inter-cat relations, I'd be grateful to receive these. Meanwhile, some 18 months later, BF still sports a fetching scar the length of his forearm inflicted by Nush while attempting to separate the cats.