It is now 2008, and Arturo is now fully integrated into the tribe. The other cats aren't always pleased about this, but for the most part, life is peaceful.
Over time, his periods of freedom lengthened, until we stopped closing his cage door at all. He kept his exclusive domain, denying all others entry. At mealtimes he would rush inside and wait patiently for the food delivery. We joked about him starving if the cage disappeared. As this recent photo shows, that clearly didn't happen.
Reclaiming space, we finally disassembled and removed Arturo's cage, disconcerting him considerably. To ease the transition, we located a few storage tubs strategically. When winter came, he astonished us by heaving himself through the transom, following other incorrigible cats' examples. Incredibly, the mammoth twenty pound cat on the other side (and his almost-as-mammoth sister) did not eat Arturo for breakfast. In fact, they seemed to enjoy showing off for company. Every so often they would herd him into a corner, where he'd be stuck until their attention was diverted – or one of us came and rescued him.
Once spring came, the uninsulated kitchen got comfortable again. These days, Arturo rarely visits his oversized cousins. Currently, his prime spot is in a cardboard box that was temporarily – or so we thought – tossed atop the refrigerator. He amuses himself (and us) by diving into the box, then launching himself out, missile-style. He loves rubbing his muzzle back and forth over stubbly whiskers, and is confounded by a cleanshaven face.
Finally, Arturo is exactly where he wanted to be.
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