This arm has some damage on it, so my roommate covered it with an old table cloth that is about the same color as said couch. Because the arm now has a different texture than the rest of the couch, the cats have decided it's the SUPER SPECIAL PLACE to sit/lay/sleep and covet it with all they are.
For anyone who doesn't own animals and believes them to be too simple to covet things, you're mistaken. Cats can covet. They can also lie. I doubt they honor their mother, have no concept of a father, and tend to worship the sun or themselves. Really, I don't think there isn't a Commandment cats don't break.
Anyway, Sour Old Neenee Cat* was sitting in the special spot. She'd been gunning for it all day, watching for it to open up. For hours and hours, Stupid Boy Cat claimed it as his, sleeping there, basking there, and, to the mind of Sour Old NeeNee, being quite smug about it. However, as all cats are wont to do, he had to leave to use the litter box. NeeNee saw this as her chance and settled into the special place.
Once Stupid Boy Cat returned, he tried to jump back into what he believed to be HIS spot. Imagine his dismay to see NeeNee there. She hissed and he backed away, but not far away. It was then that she began to understand her predicament. The bed was now hers, but she could not rest. Everyone else wanted her place. She eyed the boy cat and showed him her fangs as she offered him a low, challenging growl.
The problem with being a sour cat is that one tends to growl a lot. When one growls a lot, one's growls cease to be taken seriously. This was certainly the case with the pisspot known as NeeNee Cat. Boy Cat ignored her and began to bat at her face, hoping to make her leave. This caused more growling and more hissing. He rubbed against the couch, which served to only fuel her anger. Her growling increased in volume, less of a warning now, more of declaration of war.
They sprang at the same time. He jumped to battle her, she dove to destroy him. Paws and fur and fangs and claws. In sinuous union, they circled, each trying to do the other the most harm. Boy Cat had the reach and size in his favor. Neenee had . . . well, at least more brains than he did, and her pure and unending supply of bitterness. He bit at her tail and she, for the moment forgetting to guard the coveted spot, ran into my bedroom.
As he is not smart, Boy Cat gave chase, cornering her in one of her other favorite spots. One would think he'd just settle into the special place, now that it had been vacated, but . . . well, like I said, he's not smart. Instead, he continued his battle. Batting at her, making her howl and hiss and begin a series of noises so ungodly they could only be cat curse words.
The battle ended soon after, as I'd had enough with telling them to stop it and now found it necessary to end the battle with one of my special human powers . . . the spray bottle full of water. This ended the war as both combatants suddenly realized they had other things to do besides beat each other. Sour Old NeeNee cat stayed in my room. Stupid Boy Cat wondered around aimlessly for a while . . . and then settled back into the Special Spot as it was empty again.
The war has ended. Blessed be the day.
*Cat names changed to protect from litigation.
For anyone who doesn't own animals and believes them to be too simple to covet things, you're mistaken. Cats can covet. They can also lie. I doubt they honor their mother, have no concept of a father, and tend to worship the sun or themselves. Really, I don't think there isn't a Commandment cats don't break.
Anyway, Sour Old Neenee Cat* was sitting in the special spot. She'd been gunning for it all day, watching for it to open up. For hours and hours, Stupid Boy Cat claimed it as his, sleeping there, basking there, and, to the mind of Sour Old NeeNee, being quite smug about it. However, as all cats are wont to do, he had to leave to use the litter box. NeeNee saw this as her chance and settled into the special place.
Once Stupid Boy Cat returned, he tried to jump back into what he believed to be HIS spot. Imagine his dismay to see NeeNee there. She hissed and he backed away, but not far away. It was then that she began to understand her predicament. The bed was now hers, but she could not rest. Everyone else wanted her place. She eyed the boy cat and showed him her fangs as she offered him a low, challenging growl.
The problem with being a sour cat is that one tends to growl a lot. When one growls a lot, one's growls cease to be taken seriously. This was certainly the case with the pisspot known as NeeNee Cat. Boy Cat ignored her and began to bat at her face, hoping to make her leave. This caused more growling and more hissing. He rubbed against the couch, which served to only fuel her anger. Her growling increased in volume, less of a warning now, more of declaration of war.
They sprang at the same time. He jumped to battle her, she dove to destroy him. Paws and fur and fangs and claws. In sinuous union, they circled, each trying to do the other the most harm. Boy Cat had the reach and size in his favor. Neenee had . . . well, at least more brains than he did, and her pure and unending supply of bitterness. He bit at her tail and she, for the moment forgetting to guard the coveted spot, ran into my bedroom.
As he is not smart, Boy Cat gave chase, cornering her in one of her other favorite spots. One would think he'd just settle into the special place, now that it had been vacated, but . . . well, like I said, he's not smart. Instead, he continued his battle. Batting at her, making her howl and hiss and begin a series of noises so ungodly they could only be cat curse words.
The battle ended soon after, as I'd had enough with telling them to stop it and now found it necessary to end the battle with one of my special human powers . . . the spray bottle full of water. This ended the war as both combatants suddenly realized they had other things to do besides beat each other. Sour Old NeeNee cat stayed in my room. Stupid Boy Cat wondered around aimlessly for a while . . . and then settled back into the Special Spot as it was empty again.
The war has ended. Blessed be the day.
*Cat names changed to protect from litigation.
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