A coward dies many times before his death. The valiant never taste of death but once. –William Shakespeare
And when the larder’s looted Or the jewel cases rifled Or when the milk is missing Or another Peke’s been stifled Or the greenhouse glass is broken And the trellis past repair There’s the wonder of the thing: Macavity’s not there! Macavity: The mystery Cat, Andrew Lloyd Weber
My cat is such a pussy. I wish there was a pun intended, but really I just know of no other way to say it. She is a little pussy. What other creature does not protect its territory? I am fine that she is not aggressive, but anything should defend its domain when it is invaded by an intruder that is up to no good.
I suppose it is my fault, since I spoil her and we don’t play really really rough. I think she was separated from her family when she was too young, so she probably never had the benefit of rough-housing with her litter to learn to fight. And even when we do get rough, I always win (opposable thumb and all) so she usually retreats if it goes further than strong words.
Though I am a peaceful man, and I think violence solves nothing, it still nevertheless must sometimes be utilized. I am happy to share, but I will not be robbed. It is not a case of solving the situation at that point.
I have often wondered why she won’t eat while I am not there. I figured it was evolutionary; I figured it went back to where they needed someone else to watch their backs while they fed so they didn’t get attacked. I had hoped she would outgrow it when she learned that no one was going to steal her food here.
I learned yesterday I was wrong.
There has been a stray cat snooping around the house lately. It gets really bold when I leave the window open for her to go in and out, but I thought that no stray would dare enter a domicile. It was always too shy to let me get close to it when our paths crossed outside.
Yeah, and the Iraqis would greet us as liberators. Like I said, anything will defend its domain…
Yesterday I came home after a short jaunt to the store to gather some grub making essentials, and I noticed that Brenna’s food dish was already empty. I had just filled it a few hours before, and she nibbles all day on a bowl of food rather than woofing it down. (She’s dainty.)
I got suspicious that maybe the other cat had been coming in while I was gone and gobbling up her food. So I closed the screen so it could not get in. I had assumed the cat was already gone. Surely if it was still here then Brenna would be kicking its ass or at least alerting me to its location.
Later that night, I noticed Brenna on point in the hallway by the bedroom. I walked into the bedroom and it smelled like cat piss. The stray had been in there marking its territory. If South Park was scientific, I should have been seeing major boobage, but my bedroom remained devoid of boobs both real and imaginary.
I opened the window and got the fan to air out the room, and then I heard a high pitched growl. I felt like Papa Bear when I realized that the Someone was still there.
I tried to coax the cat out, but he was having none of that. It was really a very pretty cat and I wanted to make friends. However he was, unlike Brenna, still fully equipped with front claws and seemed more than willing to use them. The only way I could even get close to him was to get down on my stomach and put my face on the same level and reach my arm way up under my bed. The cat would have had the advantage if he had attacked since my height and tool making abilities would not have come into play.
So, sadly, I had to resort to trying to chase the cat (bow wow wow yippie yie yippie yo) out of the house. Luckily, he only broke one lamp in his distress. It was actually a wall sconce in the bathroom when it tried to climb the walls. Poor fucker.
I won’t leave the window open for Brenna when I am gone any longer. Hopefully she won’t be terrorized at her water hole again. I am glad she is a hippie like me, but how do I teach her that sometimes you gotta fight to be a, er, cat?