Shadow and Dot enjoy a relationship of … mostly avoidance. Yes, they play together (when Shadow’s in the mood). Yes, they eat from bowls on the same tray and often swap midway through a meal. They worked out a tag team system for getting us out of bed in the morning. They are happy when the other is nearby (Dot is sad Shadow hides in my studio and Shadow is happy she hasn’t yet figured out the cat door works two way).
Dot desperately wants Shadow to love her and be her very best friend. Shadow still isn’t sure of her boundless energy.
He’s not good with change and I think still misses his BFF (I understand, I miss Buddy too).
Their grooming sessions are brief and often end in a spat, with a swat. They’re also one sided, Shadow will pin Dot down for a few seconds and wash part of her face.
This is the sort of closeness we’re used to seeing between them, simply near each other.
When it’s very cold at night they’ve shared the bed, Dot sleeping on my feet and Shadow draping himself across my neck (often with his elbow in my throat, but I digress). Over the past few weekends, Dot’s given in to the lure of a warm bed if there’s no alarm clock to rouse us. She seems to be outgrowing her bottomless kitten hunger.
To our surprise (and theirs), the other day we came home and found them together. They were sharing an armchair.
What’s more amazing is they stayed that way long enough for us to break out in laughter, get out our phones, and slowly move forward in an attempt to document it. I’m not sure what surprised them more, that we were home or that we caught them together.
This leads to the inevitable question — what happens when we’re not home?