Joey was my Grandmother's cat, who came to live with us around the age of one; he's now eight years old and 20 lbs. He took about a week to feel comfortable enough to let us near him; several months to come out where the dogs were.
Mathilda was found hiding in our shed at only seven weeks old; she is now one and a half years old and less than 10 lbs. Although she still runs from my husband and I, it's still possible to pat her on the head, play string, and give out treats at close range.
Here's Mel, about half the size of Joey, but thinks he needs to Cercei's deputy. All three of the dogs have seen and smelled Mathilda, but since she HATES them (translate -- scared to death), I really try to keep the peace in my animal kingdom by giving them all their own spaces.
Mathilda and Joey are best friends. He allows Mathilda to lay on him, "nurse" him (yes, he's a boy), and pretty much do as she pleases. I never realized just how much of a mothering role Joey played until today...
Before I left for work, I went scoop all the litter boxes. Apparently, Mathilda didn't like all the noise I was making and decided to jump the dog blockade, past the dogs, and into a bedroom to hide on the side of the bed. Because she's running, Cercei and Mel can't help but run after her; that's when the calamity began.
So here's Mathilda, backed up against the wall, feeling trapped, and hissing her head off. Cercei's in the background, barking. Mel doesn't heed the warning signals that Mathilda is giving off; meanwhile, Joey has run into the room, jumped on top of the bed, and is now hissing his head off.
Only seconds have passed; I'm trying to shoo the dogs out of the room, and step in between Mathilda and Mel. Just as I pick Mel up off of the floor, Joey jumps in front of Mathilda and then leaps up into the air and bites the crap out of my leg, through my jeans, leaving two puncture wounds.
So there you have it, cat's do stick together!