Charlie's eyes nearly popped out of her head when Rocket came through the door. She raced under the couch. I know how she felt. My eyes were bugging, too. This was Rocket’s new home. I felt like I should be giving him the grand tour, but instead, I was shell-shocked. Our “family” had increased from 3 to 4 in a matter of seconds. I felt the sudden urge to do damage control rather than throw a welcome party.
Rocket was interested in Charlie. He eagerly staggered through the house sniffing for her. She tucked her body down tighter under the sofa. There were barks and hisses. We held Rocket back and peeled Charlie out from her hiding spot, threw her into the bedroom and closed the door. We all needed a moment to think about what was happening. What was the best thing to do? What if Rocket didn’t like cats? Why hadn't I thought of this before? Charlie was my baby first. They would have to get along. Have to. Everyone would need to be happy with the arrangement for this to work, or maybe we just needed ground rules. So it was decided:
Rule #1: “No eating one another.”
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