Norm and Hunter soon discovered that Floyd was not the picture of health he appeared to be; In addition to the ubiquitous ear mites, he had a light case of Feline URI and a patch of ringworm, not to mention the fresh psychological and physical wounds of his recent neutering. To combat the URI (a relatively common affliction of shelter animals), the veterinarian at the A.C.S. clinic suggested a procedure known as the "Shower Treatment," which involved spending extraordinary amounts of time locked in a steamy bathroom with a six-month old Maine Coon Cat. For the ringworm, there was a lotion.
After a few harrowing weeks of steam and salves, Floyd had fully recovered and was ready to begin his campaign for total domination of 847 E. 56th St. His bid for power was surprisingly effective, and for a short time anarchy reigned in the small two-bedroom. In a desperate effort to quell Floyd's insatiable Spieltrieb and thereby to re-align domestic power dynamics, Norm and Hunter turned to outside mediation. They returned to the Anti-Cruelty Society and picked out Linda, the most docile-looking cat in the showroom. Docile she was (in her own passive-aggressive way), and also very cute, but she did little to curb Floyd's scofflaw behavior. Though Linda's given name was La-La, she received upon adoption the somewhat more dignified appellation of Linda, a name suggested by Bill and a Conway Twitty song.
These, the facts of Floyd and Linda's arrival at 847 E. 56th St., reveal little about the animals' biological origins. The Bivens Institute's ongoing genealogical investigations will help us to understand the unique hereditary makeup of each cat. The initial results of these efforts have been assembled into two family trees. Click here to see Floyd's family tree, and here for Linda's.