Moving is high on the top of stress factors. Just like divorces and deaths. Sylvester can talk about it. He even ended up homeless.
People are quite precise about where and with whom they want to live. Pets have no say. Sylvester simply moved with it. To an address with a gruff hangover as sole ruler for seventeen years. He himself, only ten this summer, had to address that gentleman with “highness”. A big step too far. Nothing mutual respect. The two agreed on only one thing; living with peers is very bad. Almost as bad as dogs.
In short, it became extremely uncomfortable in the new home. Constant threat, underhanded tricks and intimidation. Growling and hissing. Clatter of arms at food bowls and toilet. Everyone became very nervous. And Sylvester, originally a proud redhead, lost his shine and some weight. From the stress, thought the owner.
That was certainly true, but the doctor also discovered a thyroid problem. In the shelter, because that’s how it ended. One of them had to give way. The old despot won. Based on seniority and territory and stuff. That hurt.
He gets pills for more fat and shine on the bones. Packed in goodies, he quickly takes them away. His living comfort is moderate; again with cats. But neutral ground, this time. So no snarls and rest at the head. He likes the volunteers. Because Sylvester likes people. If it suits him, is best for a hug or a cup. You can get acquainted via 0224 – 551818.