Last night the interloper dared come downstairs into the home office where I like to hang out. I chased him back upstairs and under the dining room table. My mistress tried to calm me by pushing me down and petting me, and I must say I did feel calmer.
The interloper sat under the table for a while, and I watched him, and then I turned my back. We weren't looking at each other, and I was feeling a tad more accepting. He is a handsome fellow, all orange with whitish stripes. He's skinny, too, and obviously needs none of my "Atkins for kitties." Rather a whole batch of fried chicken livers. I, of course do not eat "people" food. Diet nibbles, Fancy Feast tender beef (beef, not "beer" dammit) and bottled water for me.
We had another little meeting in the middle of the night, and it was less frenzied. Didn't realize I could run that fast. Ah well, exercise is part of a cat's regimen, a smallish part of mine.
Talleyho! Maybe another game of chase-y face awaits.
Thisbe (who insists on being the dominant cat). After all, it's my house.