There have been some changes. More on that soon. The current state of the household:

• Kolohe (my 11-year-old tabby): "Eh, whatever. Can has ear rubs, humans?"
• Frank (Noah's 17-year-old tuxie): "New cats? Whatevs. I've done this before. That food looks tasty."
• Toph (Noah's 2-year-old): "NOPE. Not coming out of the sewing room. I'm chickenshit."

and then there's Beryl. Oh, Beryl.

"I WILL CUT ALL OF YOU. DON'T EVEN LOOK AT THE TABBY. MY TABBY. MINE MINE MINE. NOT YOURS, YOU HEATHEN TUXIE BITCH."

Frank: "Dude. Whatever. I didn't even want a tabby.You can have him."

Beryl: "DIE TUXIE SCUM. Oh, look. There's my tabby. Everything's okay now that I have my tabby."

Cue purring.

So far, Kolohe doesn't care, Frank has vague curiosity about the whole thing but mostly wants to sleep, Toph is hiding in my fabric stash, and Beryl has claimed the land under the bed as hers, hers, and only hers, to be defended with low hisses if Frank peeks in.

All in all, for day 3, this is pretty good. They're cats. They'll adjust.