Project Finn

Finn McCool relaxes on the couch.

Finn has been at Ft. Harrington for two weeks now, and he's slowly, slowly getting comfortable.

He's going to be more of a project than expected, but he's smart, basically affectionate, and wants to get along here. He just doesn't quite know exactly how to do that yet, but he's learning quickly.

That Finn was going to be a little bit of a challenge became apparent on his first trip to the vet, after he had been with us for a mere 48 hours. Here's a slice (heh) from the doctor's writeup on that visit (click the image to see a legible version):

The "bold, inquisitive" part comes from Finn's behavior whenever anyone would open the exam room door from outside: he'd come to full alert and stalk toward the corner of the exam table nearest the door instead of shrinking away. The "may scratch or bite, a little wild" comes from our mis-adventure in attempting to take his temperature the first (and, so far, only) time. He had behaved very well up until then, but as soon as the thermometer made contact... BLAM!! Finn went off like a tactical nuclear warhead, writhing, screaming, biting, slashing, and I swear I could hear him in my head, saying "THAT'S A ONE-WAY STREET, YOU PERVERTS!"

We managed to constrain him pretty quickly, but not before there was blood on the exam table, none of it Finn's. It could have been worse; there could have been some on the walls.

On the third day, he rested behind the CPU.

Through the first week, it became more and more clear that Finn had never been socialized, either with people or other animals. Consistent encouragement/discouragement of specific behaviors is working very well with him, though, and I'm sure he'll eventually be safe for Grace-the-Granddaughter to handle. Not quite yet, though.

His interactions with the other animals has been fascinating -- sometimes heartwarming, sometimes frightening, sometimes infuriating, but always fascinating. He has the computer room all to himself, but we've had it open to the other animals (and for him to visit other rooms when he's of a mind) for increasing periods each day.

Finn bowling

His first forays out of his room were times for finding hidey-holes and nooks (of which there are many in the Fort.) He seems most comfortable in high places (like the bowl above up near the kitchen ceiling) where he can keep an eye on things. It says a lot about him that he prefers those places to dark, hidden places under furniture.

The other animals have varying reactions to him, but the weirdest by far is what goes on with our Maine Coons, Alnitak and his nephew Copernicus. The two of them are together so much that we almost think of them as one cat, but their reactions to Finn have been polar opposites, almost like they're playing a "Good cop, bad cop" routine on the little guy. That's got to be confusing to Finn; the two coons look so much alike that I'm not sure how long it took him to figure out that they are actually two different cats.

Cooper has been a big, fuzzy, warm friend from the start -- but Al's behavior has bordered on the hateful, never physically hurting Finn, but intimidating him to the point of terrorization sometimes. It's a relief that his behavior is ameliorating rapidly -- and today I caught him sitting with Finn at the computer room window watching "kitty TV" (chickens in the yard) happily together.

Cooper, the good cop.

Al, the bad cop.

Fonzie sleeps under Boo's picture.

Fonzie, the spacey, lovely little Aby, has been fond of Finn from the outset, and Finn has always seemed comfortable with him, too. It may be a red cat thing; Fonzie was always very fond of our old ginger bobtail, Boo, too.

Kelsey and Finn McCool

Finn is slowly coming to grips with the dogs, but I don't think he'll ever actually like them the way the coons do. They don't freak him out now like they did in the first week, but there's still plenty of room for progress.

And then there's Oolie, the Black Freighter. Oolie completely and utterly ignores Finn unless the little guy gets inside his no-trespassing zone, which seems to be about a foot and a half. When that happens, the Freighter spits a little and threatens to call his lawyer:

So far, the name "Finn McCool" seems to fit pretty well. He's in a terribly alien situation, with lots of strange things and animals to get used to, and he's holding his ground without hiding. Not bad for a little 8-pound yearling.