Archive for August, 2007

Tempest in a Cat Box

Sunday, August 5th, 2007

Sophia and Cloud have achieved detente. Sophia doesn’t hiss gratuitously any more, and in fact puts up with a certain amount of kitten-play and pounces. Then she will try to simply walk away, and only hisses if Cloud persists in chasing and jumping on her. In other words, she acts like an adult dealing with someone else’s rambunctious toddler. They aren’t friends yet, but I think it will come.

Tornado is another question entirely. She is furious with me. I tried to pick her up and pet her this morning, and she growled at me, then sat there muttering curses and imprecations and other things I’m sure were quite the reverse of polite until I opened the door and let her out. I wouldn’t have been surprised had Cloud been in the room, but she was still up in the attic where we put her for the night. Talk about spiting her own face – my black feline nit-wit sat out in the rain this morning and got completely soaked, all while staring at me reproachfully, rather than come in where That Intruder is. She is sleeping with our son instead of with me. With her the force of condemnation can go no further.

I’m quite certain the middle cat-child has considered running away from home. She certainly stays out far longer than she had been wont to do, deigning to come in only when she’s certain that this unwelcome orphan is upstairs for the night. And even once she’s in, heaven forbid I might try to pay attention to her. She won’t even come when I open a can of the Good Cat Food (i.e. the canned stuff). I can all but hear her saying “I am a cat of honor, and I will not be bribed.” In a word, I’m being snubbed. No one can administer a good snubbing like a cat. As my husband said, watching her pointedly turn her back and then turn to see if I was suitably chastened, “I your cat am a jealous cat.” She is. She remembers that her ancestors were worshiped and expects to be accorded similar deference, and she will suffer no rival deity in this house. Unfortunately for her, the house has room for but one alpha female, and I’m it.

Now I get to figure out how age and treachery will outwit youth and indignation – and feline stubbornness.

Apprentice Sportscaster

Friday, August 3rd, 2007

We are in the process of accustoming our big girls to a toddler of their own species. They aren’t too keen on this, so we’re monitoring very closely, intervening when it seems mayhem might ensue. Baby has taken a few cuffs, but I’ve noticed that the claws have been sheathed even when she gets swatted; she’s being admonished, not attacked.

If I’m in the middle of something (as I usually am) when contact between the feline generations is imminent, I’ll ask our son to watch and call me if I’m needed. So he has taken to narrating the action taking place under the couch.

“That’s a hiss from Sophia, and a mew from Cloud.”
“It’s two hisses and a growl, now it’s two growls, no three. Now it’s three growls and four hisses. Five hisses.”
“It’s a hiss from Cloud, and a paw-swipe from Sophia. And Cloud is mewing again, and Sophia has hissed and growled and turned her back. That’s eight growls and five hisses so far…..”

We’ve never gotten beyond that, simply because when the baby is sent tumbling by an adult paw I’ll put down whatever and come in. As soon Miss Kitten perceives my presence, she darts out from under the couch to ascend to the safety at the peak of Mount Mommy. But the narration itself is worth the price of admission.