When we got Max, we set him up in the master bedroom and bathroom area. We needed to keep him separate from Logan for the first 24-48 hours so he could settle in, and we wanted to be able to confine him to one area when we left the house. The master suite worked for this - of course once he figured out that he would be put in there when we left, he'd go hide under the sleeper sofa, which has got to be one the heaviest pieces of furniture we own. He got full run of the house while we were gone faster than we had planned on giving it to him. His food and water were on the window seat on the far side of the bathtub. Logan never figured out how to climb in the tub, so he couldn't eat Max's food there. But it also meant I was climbing in and out of the tub to feed and water Max a couple times a day. It worked, but I realized this week that it would be easier if he could eat in the kitchen like everyone else. (I might be a little slow.)
On Tuesday I moved his food and water to the tallest island in the kitchen - it's above the sink area and Logan can only peek over the edge when he stands up, he can't actually get anything from this island unless it's right on the edge. Also, it's not a food prep area - it forms a short backsplash and it divides the kitchen from the family room. Max has always been fine with getting to this island (have you ever met a cat that isn't fine getting on kitchen counters?), so I knew it should be easy for him. Once the food and water were relocated, I showed Max where they were. That's when the attitude came in. He saw his food and water and tried them - they tasted fine. Then he jumped down and went to the bathroom where his food used to be. Then there was some cat screaming. He stomped around and meowed and lectured me all day. By bedtime that night, Mickael and I were standing in the bathroom brushing our teeth and Max came in and jumped up where his food had previously been. He stomped around looking for it (it wasn't there, but he was making a point), then he glared at me. He wasn't pleased with my actions and he was letting me know.
The next day he decided to try something else since anger hadn't worked. When I was in the bathroom, he jumped up where the food used to be, and started meowing sadly. He gave me the sad eyes and told me how if his food wasn't brought back to the bathroom he might die of starvation. It was very moving, but the food stayed in the kitchen. He tried sad all day Wednesday.
Yesterday there was a short lecture and a bit of flippy tail directed at me, but by bedtime, he had pretty much resigned himself to eating in the kitchen (not that he had ever quit eating, he just didn't like doing it in the kitchen). This morning, everything seems to be normal.
So now I know that Max takes longer to adjust than Ramius ever did. Also, I'm glad I didn't move his litter box!