Patches pissed all over Nick’s new lily-white futon matress yesterday. Somehow it soaked through the matress and even reached the bottom. He’s been inconsistently incontinent the last week and threw up twice over the weekend. I’m bringing him to the vet for a check up to make sure it’s not a bladder infection or sickness. I hope it’s something health related, as opposed to a mental problem, such as fear or nervousness with Dolly running around. That way it can be fixed, whereas a mental problem is much more difficult to cure. Dolly is still attacking him, half playfully and half forcefully, but Patches doesn’t like any of it. He’ll sleep on my bed for protection at night, usually on my ankles but sometimes on my pillow.

Patches has been hiding under my bed less and less. He’s more comfortable with his surroundings now, but not quite accustomed to Dolly’s aggressive play-fighting. He thinks that she’s attacking him, so he’ll just growl and run away. I’ve gotten him to be more relaxed by giving him catnip. He’ll start rubbing against me every time he smells it, and when he eats some he does a few kitty break dancing moves. Sometimes it looks like he’s trying to windmill into a stall, but I think those are his only moves.

Dolly has lately been sleeping under the rugs. Nick and I will think that she’s missing until we see a large lump in the living room rug. It’s pretty frustrating because every time I straighten it out, she’ll just dig underneath it and mess it all up again.

One thing that she’s been doing for a while is sleeping on things to mark them. Every time someone brings a bag or jacket into my room, the first thing she’ll do is sniff it out then sleep on it, which I personally see as a viable alternative to urination.

Aaron brought Patches over Monday night, and he’s been staying under my bed for most of the time. The tent that he has is sort of his security blanket; he’ll hide in there whenever he wants to be alone. Dolores is a little wary of his presence, and she’ll follow him just to keep track of where he is most of the time. So far, it’s just a few hisses and growls, since Dolly seems to want to test Patches with challenges, while Patches just groans. Sometimes it sounds like stock cars making a turn at Daytona when they growl out of sync.

I’m getting a second cat. Aaron’s parents are moving, and his 14-year-old Patches needs a new home. Aaron bought Patches himself, paid for his toys, food, litter, shots, and declawing with his own paper route money as a kid. I’ll be damned if his parents simply give him away to the first home they find. Instead, Patches will be living with me here, and Aaron can come visit whenever he wants. The main adjustment that needs to be done is the frequency with which I need to buy food and litter. Patches used to be 25 pounds before he went on a diet, so I’m expecting either a very fat cat or a very flabby cat. Aaron has assured me that his stomach will drag on the ground for the rest of his life.

All I need now is my own sitcom. It’d be called “Emography” and feature the adventures of an unemployed computer scientist living with his two cats, Teardrop and Raine, scaring away girls with his over-sensitivity.