Name's Diddums (it's Welsh). British shorthair mix, grey and black stripey coat, white feet, white spot on his chin, fat white tummy, about 10 pounds. Talkative, friendly, slight accent.
Wait - let me start over.
I adopted a kitty last weekend! I got him at the Dumb Friends League through the Home Buddies program. He was being fostered by a nice lady named Michelle who didn't seem at all surprised to have a dog asking to meet her foster kitty. When I walked in her house, London (his name at the time) walked right up to me and bumped noses. We chatted briefly about life at my house (another nice kitty, one bossy small dog, one extra large goofy dog, two humans, any number of CCI puppies coming and going) and he said, "Cheers." Say what?
Turns out "Cheers" means Okay, yes, fine, pack my bags, I'm moving in. Or something like that. So Marianne and John and I went to the Dumb Friends League, filled out the paperwork and then went back to Michelle's and loaded London into a crate and drove home.
Oh, boy. He complained the entire way. Turns out he HATES crates. I had no idea cats could make noises like that. Yow - I had to lie down on the back seat and cover my ears. Fortunately, it was a short drive.
When we got home Marianne did what Mina calls "the usual drill." She put London in the guest room with food, water and a litter box. He got to meet the rest of the family one at a time over the next 24 hours. Meryl and Mina were very happy to see him; Mina woo-wooed and Meryl moaned. They're what my Auntie Elizabeth calls "external processors." Dewey, on the other paw, was extremely rude, hissing and spitting through the baby gate at the guest room like some kind of crazy fierce tiger. We were all shocked -- he's usually the nicest cat you'll ever meet. Meryl and Mina backed away, blinking.
"Don't worry about it, Luv," said London cheerfully. "'e'll come 'round soon enough."
Dewey stalked off, growling. I hurried after him. "Hey, what's wrong? I thought you'd like having a new kitty friend," I said.
Dewey rounded on me and smacked my nose. "OW!" I protested. "What was that for?"
"For not caring about Dozer! For forgetting him!" Dewey snapped. "Traitor! Beast!"
I was horrified. "Oh Dewey, I'm so sorry! I misunderstood. I thought you were really lonesome and wanted a new friend right away. Of course we're not forgetting Dozer. We miss him too." I lay down next to Dewey and nudged him gently. "Okay?"
Dewey sniffed and stared off into the middle distance. "I will be, just don't rush me."
Sure enough, by Tuesday he'd stopped hissing and by Wednesday he was letting London snooze next to him in the green chair.
Meanwhile Marianne and John were discussing new names. John has a thing about naming the cats with D names (long story - don't ask). They thought it should have some tie to England. Marianne ran a list of place names and street names in London, but nothing seemed to fit. And then she exclaimed, "Diddums - it's Welsh!" and that stuck.
Frankly, I don't get it, but it made her snort. She says that the first person who gets the literary reference gets 25 points (toward what I don't know) and a prize. Now, I have to warn you that Marianne is famous for good prizes and gifts, though they can sometimes be....um....random. So, if you know the answer send me an email. Maybe you'll win the prize!
Chow for now! Rocket
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