SSSHHHH…don’t tell anyone…it’s a secret…take it to your grave… The Bad Boy Andy is getting old… I am either thirteen (Vet swears) or fourteen (Momma knows best, bet on it) years old… kind of like those poor displaced souls who were born when their country was in turmoil and no birth registrations took place.
Just like many a Two Footed who have more days behind them, then coming at them, I have mellowed…even developed a lop sided sense of empathy and humor. Now who couldn’t ♥ a cat like that?
Well, we’ll tell you…that foul tempered Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte Charlie. If I would dare to come within ten feet of her, I am deafened by her irrational hissing and snarling. I try so hard, (honestly) just try to sneak in to Momma’s room so I can settle in the dog cage for a quick nap but she sees me, hears me, smells me, feels me…I swear…it is beyond text-book neurosis the hatred that cat reserves for poor me! She can be buried under the blankets in Momma’s bed and leap out at me, like a tiger on speed.
Every once in a while Charlie will (gently) correct my sister Diva Calico Gen, (who is more trouble than a barrel of monkeys), batting her across the snout, but even so, when Gen is mean to her, Charlie just slinks off in shame, head low, tail lower.
Then there is Jakita… I don’t think Charlie has ever even given that dog (yes, you are a dog, Jakita, not a Senorita or whatever high faluting blue blooded species you believe you belong to) a cross look and never a hiss or snarl….a love fest… apparently the rule is: No Boys Allowed!
Yet if I have the audacity to cross the thresh hold of Momma’s room, it is Game On, fight to the death, I will leave that room in tatters…take the other day…Momma and Jakita heard this unholy snarl, then a thump followed by ‘help me caterwaul’…oh no, it wasn’t Charlie that needed saving from me…I needed saving from Charlie. She had pounced on my back, and with expert finesse (she must have had training in Extreme Marshal Arts, I am sure, totally), gouged my eye with her clawed paws, embedding a long sharp nail right under my left eye.
Now I know I should be thankful…it wasn’t in my eye…and Wonder Boy saw it and pulled it out…but still… I’m not feeling the love.
Sometimes as I contemplate the situation, I wonder could Charlie be a feminist first…possibly …. she likes Gen and Jakita because they are girlies like her. I notice she hides behind the door and hisses softly at Clem (also a Tom cat) but never like the treatment she reserves for me.
I believe since Clem is a feral, Charlie has enough smarts to not start something she can’t finish….maybe…possibly…but Clem’s no brawler either, or else I wouldn’t let him come around.
I am thinking of starting a blog with Cat Tips (oh, and we could sell some Cat Nip) plus a Have Your Say Help Desk where poor, underappreciated Brainiac Bad Boy Kitties can tell their tales (not showoff their tails) because Momma says that there is nothing new in this world… just yesterdays headaches and heartaches amplified by our full tilt existence…
So fingers crossed. All we need is ♥.
