We are on Day Three with Torvald, and while he objects to a good many things about the situation — linguistic barriers prevent my understanding the exact nature of his objections — he doesn’t object to the food. He has a lot to say, though.
He’s spending most of his time in the laundry room until all his labs come back (so far, no worms; two more to go). He’s figured out the litter box, and discovered a new vice — brushing. I don’t think he’d ever been groomed, judging from the mats that the Engineer (who has a specially deft hand with cats) occasionally extracted from his tail and belly; his coat was always full and healthy looking but a little rough and elflocked. Yesterday I had an inspiration and found an old hairbrush that Patty Twinkle the Tuxedo Mouser used to love. Torvald went nuts, rolling ecstatically from side to side and setting up a thunderous purr. He is looking silkier and glossier by the hour.
He has had a chance to do a little exploring while my troops chill out on the top floor.
He still doesn’t understand why I won’t open the doors to the outside, but he’s finding more to interest him in here. For all I know he may end up as my business manager.