There’s a new cat living at my house. The old cat has left for warmer climes. How’s that for maintaining the balance of power?

OJ has run away for the third time in a month. She’s been gone for a week. She ran off a couple of weeks ago but I found her after a day. This time, I figure she knows her way home. I’ve jogged through the neighborhood calling her name but she refuses to come to me.

Bitch.

Whatever. I’m tired of her attitude. I knew when I adopted her from the streets of San Jose that she’d eventually wander out of my life. I’m hoping she comes back but am not holding my breath.

In the meanwhile, Ken and Suzie have moved to a new condo that won’t accept cats, so they gave guardianship of their favorite cat to me and Alex. The cat is named Minute, and she’s less than a year old. Her fur is soft and silver-gray all over, except right around her nose where her fur is a shade lighter. It makes her appear illuminated.

Minute was Ken and Suzie’s favorite, partly because Ken helped her into this world. Minute’s favorite toy is the foil from a cigarette pack. She’ll even fetch.

I haven’t seen her do that yet, though, because she spends most of her day hiding. She ventures into sight once darkness falls, though, and has even slept on my bed a couple of times since OJ took off.

OJ was underwhelmed with Minute. I was afraid that Minute would equate me with the mean old cat, but she seems to have gotten over that.

There wasn’t much sleep to be had in the apartment last week, what with OJ’s restlessness and Minute crying for her real Mommy and Daddy. Once OJ left, Minute took joy in hopping onto my bedpillow at 4:00 a.m., then jumping over my head to the other side of the pillow, and repeating until I kicked her out of my room, at which point she’d cry at my door and the process would repeat itself.

I figure it’s all just practice for motherhood.