The Lion and the Lamb

For anyone who recalls my blog posts of midsummer from Thisbe, with ripostes by the "Orange Outrage," well, peace reigns as they both sleep close together on the couch in the downstairs home office. Couldn't believe my  eyes.

Thisbe has been peaceable lately, with just one loud hiss announcing she did NOT like the "Orange Outrage" on Mommy's side of the bed.  That is HER territory, although she prefers the little Indian rug by my side of the bed.  They are eating each other's food and rubbing noses occasionally.  

Two cats in Harmony and Peace

Who would have thunk it?

Grapeshot

The Orange Cat and the Tortoise Cat

The male orange cat cannot fathom why the female tortoise is forever on his case.  She spits. She runs away.  She freaks out when he tries to rub noses or (horrors!) sniff her butt.  Why can't we be friends.  When the mistress combs Thisbe, he butts in and wants to be combed, too,  interrupting precious Mommy-Kitty time. 
Revenge is sweet, or perhaps revenge is really savory, because Thisbe eats his food.  She scarfs down her moist food and then ambles across the kitchen to HIS dish.  
Sometimes she even eats his Meow Mix.  Thisbe is fat and diabetic and has her own special food that she likes just fine.  We call it "Atkins for kitties."  She is catholic in her cat food tastes.  But not people food.  Won't touch it.  Ick.
Now the orange cat sleeps on the bed at night with her people.  He inserts himself into the living room TV watching.  He has JOINED RED SOX NATION. 
Thisbe doesn't hide her outrage.  She may forgive and forget.  In a span of years.  But right now, it's still all out war. 

She's showing him her middle paw.  And the claws are NOT retracted. 

Will wonders never cease?

Al Fresco At the Red Lion Inn

Back from a wonderful Berkshire weekend.  Stockbridge, with lunch at the Red Lion, Tanglewood with picnic, dinner with friends, discovered the Silk Road Ensemble, discovered how much hummingbirds really do like Trumpet Vine.

We came home to discover the two enemy cats rubbing noses with nary a spit, growl or snarl in sight.  No telltales wads of fur.  The orange cat is sleeping in the office rocking chair and the Terrible Tortoise is snoozing on the floor.

Picnicing on the Lawn

My Mistress with the Enemy Cat

Can you believe it?  All this blather about people food that a cat wouldn't deign to sniff?  Peach Pie?  Fie!
Even more blather about baby birds (Yum) and summer and not a word about me and my tribulations.  In the dead of night, I find this totally dreadful, jealous-making photo on HER commuter.  HER with my rival, getting cozy while I pursue innocent sleep. 

What's a wrong cat to do?  I took my revenge by making a mess in the litter box.  'Nuff said.


The Interloper was in HER bedroom, on HER bed.  Does she think I can't smell?  It's Sunday morning and I only got perfunctory mommy-kitty time.

It may be summer, but the days are dark.

My Mistress with The Enemy

Thisbe
Author of The Catnip Chronicles

An Early Morning Hiss: the Catfrontation

In the doghouse this morning, due to a catfrontation with the Orange Outrage at 4:30 a.m.  I chased him back to his quarters, but woke up my master and mistress in the process.  Mistress was pissed and most unforgiving, but she did pet me.  I went onto the front porch and scouted for chipmunks, but didn't find any.  Begged for treats and didn't get any.  Sometimes, life in this household really sucks.

I can't encounter The Interloper without a hiss and a growl.  My mistress always tries to calm me, but I am psyched to chase this cat all the way to hell and back.  The girl can't help it.

All the adrenaline and excitement has made my coat softer and shinier.  Must be the exercise.  Well, a cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do.     My mistress insists on posting another photo of the Interloper.  What can she be thinking?

Peace now!

The "Orange Outrage," also known as the Interloper, and lately known as Someone I May Eventually Like.  This cat is so smart.  He's been biding his time, quiet and effacing without being a pansy.  What he would like do to most is to go outside and each all the birds and chipmunks some respect.  He knows enough to take the high ground.  As a fellow cat, I respect these things. I would like to teach the chipmunks respect, too.   Last night we had another face-to-face and after my mistress calmed me, I was pretty cool with everything and we weren't more than a few feet apart and both chilling. We got treats for behaving so well.

  I smelled his food dish and didn't eat it, as he has been respectful of mine, and we share the litter box with no issues.  Well, I have issues about burying, but we won't dwell on those.

His smell is all over the house, as is mine, and it doesn't make me freak anymore.  In fact, I haven't freaked for days and we are no longer kept apart except for one daily socialization.  We're happy to be indoors in the terrible heat that makes a cat shed fur by the carload.  It must make him think of his old home in Northern Nevada where coyotes howl outside of town.  Makes me nervous to think about coyotes.  I would be a meal and a half.  Yikes!  Maybe they would devour the neighborhood chickens first.  I think I'm too big for the fox, but my mistress thinks otherwise.

This afternoon we can enjoy naps, baths and more naps.  I excel at napping.

Thisbe, at peace at least temporarily

A Desultory Hiss

I spent a nice day on the home office couch, bathing and undisturbed.  Late in the evening, I ventured upstairs for food, water, toilet and meds.  The Orange Outrage was on a chair in the dining room.  I didn't even notice him at first, and when I did, I gave him a desultory hiss. He didn't bother to return my greeting. Standoffish.
 My mistress calmed me, as always, and I decided to watch the fireworks from the Esplanade in Boston rather than create some fireworks of my own.  A lazy day makes a lazy cat.  Meditation is good.
What does this mean?  Have I accepted the Interloper?  My mistress, who knows me well, remarked that there could be "setbacks," and "don't everyone get their hopes up."  Whatever can she mean?
Everyone went to bed and the orange outrage disappeared into his chambers in the guest room.  I continued my snooze.  Let's see what the morrow brings.  

Thisbe, who has somewhat calmed herself.  The picture is not of me, but of the dessert my mistress made.  Everyone ooohed and awwed. It didn't even smell like catnip or fancy feast or Atkins for Kitties.

Saturday: A Day of Rest

Everyone left the house yesterday, and the Interloper was locked in the bedroom, which apparently he likes, lolling on the bed all day like a sultan.  I, on the otherhand, slept on the basement sofa, like the queen I am.  The Interloper was leery about coming down after everyone was home, and I gave him a pass by staying downstairs in the home office, which was cool.  Treats were dispensed, along with what my mistress called "meds," which is some device that she sticks into my hide twice a day.  It doesn't hurt, and I am calm because petting, schmoozing and treats are forthcoming.  A cat would be crazy to object.

This morning, OTOH, I emerged from said home office to find the Interloper sitting in the kitchen, big as you please.  He jumped on a chair.  Rats!  He has enough sense to always take the high ground.  We both spat, and I growled until my mistress calmed me with a back massage.  Then I slunk around.  Yowsa!  We both got treats, and since I was forbidden my drama queen act, I retreated to the coolness of the home office.  The Interloper is still on a chair, and quite comfy in my house.  Grrrr.  And again grrrr.

He uses my litter box and had the audacity to "mark" it, after I had marked it, but someone scrubbed it off.  Being a cat is a hard slog through life and endless difficulties.  My mistress says she would like to "come back" as a cat in her household, whatever that means.  People are very mysterious, and not catlike at all.

Off for another nap.  This patrolling of the house and asserting my rights as First Cat is very wearisome.  

Thisbe

Truce Declared

The Interloper and I have spent some time together.  He seems leery of me and hunkers down under the table or on a chair.  Of course, whoever has the high ground has an advantage.  I have only spat at him a bit, and went easy on the growls and didn't snarl once.  My mistress claims she is pleased with my progress.  I ignored the new toy but not the new treats. 
I must say all the excitement has been well, exciting and of course, I've always been a bit of a drama queen.  I have heard rumors of a spray bottle of water in case I get too feisty.  Must investigate.  In the meantime, naptime!

Thisbe, who is hanging in there and specializes in fierce looks.

Another Catfrontation

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.

Another Face to Face

So there I was yesterday, schmoozing with my mistress in her bedroom, when in walks the house guest (HG) carrying this intruder.  My god!  He's still here.  I had hoped my nose was deceiving me.

He spat!  Viciously.
I spat!  Just as vicious.

We were separated, and he went back to the guest room.  I sniffed at the door with a ferocious big tail.  Then I was able to calm myself and go downstairs.  I overheard that he, too, had calmed himself.  So this event was not as stressful as prior ones, when my fear made me go ballistic. 

I suspect he's been eating my food and using the litter box, a cat's most private place.  What have things come to?  I think I'll retreat to my basement.  My mistress is always solicitous of me when I'm in a funk.

Thisbe

Biding My Time

That "new" cat is still here.  I can feel him.  I can smell him.  Sometimes, I think I hear his yodeling.  I stay in the home office downstairs and take naps in the cedar closet.  After everyone but my mistress goes to bed, I come upstairs for Mommy/Kitty time.  Mommy/Kitty time is the best.  One of my scratching posts has disappeared, a suspicious circumstance. 

I haven't gone batshit again, but I don't have to like this.  Now I'm napping on the sofa.  Downstairs is cool without the summer heat.  Fur is warm enough.  I have a cream-colored cross on my chest, and sometimes my sobriquet is "Sacred Kitty." 

Maybe the Pope will adopt me.  I've heard he likes cats.  I love my mistress, and I know she's not responsible for bringing a new cat into MY HOUSE.  How dare they?  The thought makes my tail twitch. 

At least I'm getting my treats regularly and there's always a little can of moist food in my dish when I trek upstairs in the evening.  Good things come in small cans. Life has been stressful and a cat likes peace and quiet.    Why do humans have such a hard time understanding that.  Change is bad.  Repeat after me.  Change is bad.

Enough.  Back to napping.  Aloha.

Thisbe

A Strange Cat is In the Storage Room

They think I don't know what's going on, that I haven't seen the bed, the litter box, the food and water in the store room.  And now a scratching post has disappeared.  A new cat smell has appeared downstairs.  I'm playing it cool and hanging out like everything is normal.

I can't go upstairs anyway, because a workman is in the house, the thing I hate most.  Strangers.  Stranger making noise.  Clumping around, disturbing a cat's peace and quiet, her most precious moments. 

I heard them talking about the new cat who was in a carrier for almost 14 hours except when he had to be taken out to go through something called security.  They said he sniffed at the litter, the food and water, snooped all over his new space and found a hidey hole where he settled down for the night.   The visitor is totally traumatized by these new non-desert surroundings and his long journey.  How glad I am not to have had his experience from yesterday. 

I empathize.  Do I look forward to meeting him?  My mistress, who titles herself, "mommy," says I must be a gracious hostess.  Quatch!  Gracious and hostess are not in my vocabulary.  Now it is time for my insulin, known in the household as my "meds."  I get a yummy treat with my meds and sometimes catnip.  Life is not all bad, especially when I am catered to and get my own way.

Moist food, fresh water, cat toys, and lots of brushing and attention.  I do like to be petted.

Thisbe