All that changed a couple of days ago, when Fern (one of the other locals who foster animals) called me in desperation, saying that a tiny kitten had wandered over to her house and much as she'd like to keep him, she was leaving town the next day to go to the States for three months. I threw my smallest crate in the car and was heading out the gate when the Capt showed up, coming in the other gate. I just hoisted the crate so he could see it, gave an apologetic smile, and drove off to pick up the newbie.
For the first few hours, Sugar was, if not hostile, perturbed at the interloper. But the new kitten, who I promptly named Ozzie, was not to be denied. He followed her around, mimicked her using the litterbox and the scratch pad, curled up next to her on the bed. Somehow she must have made it clear to him that there would be no nursing but she'd be OK with playing auntie. Last night she was washing his face. This morning they're playing jungle games.
Chica, The World's Most Perfect Dog, takes it all in stride. She has seen so many new animals come in over the past year she hardly notices them, unless they take an interest in her tennis ball. Then, all bets are off.
And the Capt has taken to Ozzie, too. This is a cat with well-honed social survival skills.