The Furriest of Loves, Arthur Dent

He's here. He's sad, but here. Missing his sis and letting long, quiet, question-marked meows out during the night and whenever he can't hear R. or I somewhere in the house. Poor buddy, I feel awful that I've alienated him and brought him to this new and strange place, yet am so glad that he's with us again. We've been napping together pretty frequently -- he'll curl up with his back in the angle my legs create and grab my hand with his paw and put his head upon it. He's social and usually quite adaptable, so I'm worried about his listlessness. I told R. I'm giving it a month or two and if he's not happier, we will get him a pal of some sort (to be named Maurice Jones Drew, haha, go Jags).

I'm also a tad worried about the bug issue here. It being an older apartment, of course that would equate to more cracks and nooks and crannies, but I have this odd gut feeling that despite Arthur's being an indoor cat, he's going to get fleas. There are just a lot of bugs here, more so than the last apartment, and it's brushy and wooded outside. We had the maintainence man come over to caulk a window, but his doing an awful job persuaded me to go out and buy a caulk gun and learn how to do it myself. I did a lot (all the windows, actually), but need to go back and get what I missed. I think I'm going to clear the shrubbery back from the apartment and try and caulk the outside, too. Scaredy-pants "I Don't Like Bugs", the Mister, R. himself, actually scraped spider eggs off the window sill the other day. We are learning to be functioning adults and dealing with things we did not foresee due in part to our blind, idealistic optimism. Funny!