A song I like ends with the well sung lyrics “Closing time, every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
I like new beginnings, but I don’t typically like the endings that are necessary for new beginnings. It has to do with change. I like positive changes for sure, I hate negative changes always, and the process of change? Well, that’s hard either way for me usually. Perhaps I’m a creature of habit. A creature of comfort. This only seems natural given our human origins in a place as warm and sustaining as a womb. And the trauma of birth completely sets the tone for human resistance to change. Duh! I am merely obeying the laws of nature. I am merely acting like … a cat?
Cats are definitely creatures of comfort and habit. And most of them do not respond well to changes. Toby and Timba have had a major change recently. I have moved from one rooming situation to another, and the one that I am in now is only temporary until my new apartment becomes available. So Toby and Timba have a new human roommate and a completely new apartment, which includes sights and sounds and smells oh my!
Timba, ever the adventurer, has adapted well. He curiously walks about the apartment, acquainting himself with all surfaces and rubbing his scent on anything worthy of his special marking. He has even laid down beside my new roommate and doesn’t flinch, run, or hide when she initiates interaction.
Toby on the other hand, is a different story. They are as night and day in basic personality, and with regards to changes. As a Russian Blue, Toby has a special dislike of change, and he has let me know quite plainly that he is in no way happy with my life-altering, world-shattering decision. He communicates via non-communication. He is incognito, MIA, under the chair or under the bed. All day. Every day. For 2 days now. He has come out at night, behind the closed door bedroom, and for a night I thought ‘old Toby’ was back. He brushed against me, leaned into the petting, sat in my arms, and curled up like he did as a kitten – in the crook of my arm while I lay on my side.
That was Saturday night. Then came Sunday: no Toby all day. Sunday night was similar to Saturday night, but with a bit of Timba-induced twist. Timba, who has thusfar been calm and accepting of Toby’s reticence, decided enough is enough. It’s time to quit your sulking and come out and play Tobias! Behind closed doors became the setting of a romper room gone awry. It is unknown how many times I awoke in the night to hisses and growls and frantic racing over my (thankfully) covered body.
Now Monday has come and nearly gone, and Toby remains under the bed as of 10pm. He is not a happy camper to say the least. It took him 2 months or more to get to a mild acceptance of Timba. I fear that just as he is coming around at this apartment, it will be time to move into the new and permanent apartment. Poor, poor Tobias. I wonder what his diary would look like?
Probably a bunch of hiss words, spiteful spraying, the paper shredded just enough to show anger while still making the words legible.
Sleep well little guy. I may see you again in the middle of the night.
P.S. Yes, Timba will be in there with us. Again.