My cat has launched a war. I am without ample defense.
I was sitting in the living room when the first strike hit. It was earlier this week and Dave left town in search of a dream (read: car). Hobbes lashed out with unhappiness by knocking everything off the top of the fridge. When I got up to find the cause of the clatter he had disappeared, leaving boxes of cereal and pill bottles in his wake. He promptly followed up by standing at the front door and caterwauling.
I should note here that Hobbes gets walks. Yes, Dave takes him on walks. I do not. I refuse to walk a cat and things being as they were, Hobbes was devastated that the human who clearly loved him more was gone from his life.
I tried talking sense into him. I tried petting and loving and distractions of all kinds. I tried meowing back. But when none of those things worked and his cries grew stronger for my efforts, I thought I might harm him in some deep and violent way. So instead I grabbed our bottle of catnip spray and soaked him. He dripped with joy, rolled around, and promptly fell asleep.
Human: 1. Cat: 0.
But the war didn’t stop there. When I came home from work yesterday, a box of food that is normally well-guarded and out of reach was blatantly strewn across the kitchen tile. The food wasn’t even devoured, which shows that it was a display of power rather than a desperate act of hunger. Without damning evidence, I was unable to determine which cat was responsible and held my wrath for a later opportunity.
Human: 1. Cat: 1.
In an attempt to wind down from carrying the burden of my corporate chains, I set up my laptop, got some food, and invited the cats to come share in my cozy couch contraptions by the light of the Christmas tree. When I finally got everything just right I breathed a huge sigh of relief, slouched back into the couch cushion and grabbed my fleece throw made of boiled baby lambs. But instead of warm, fluffy goodness, my hand plunged into a pile of cat gak. Hairball. And I had just washed that blanket.
Human: 1. Cat: 2.
Since throwing up on my cat’s belongings wouldn’t do much to even the score, I was without ideas for effective retaliation. I had given up hope and resolved to hiding in my domicile, terrorized by my bully cat and his gak until Dave could come save me.
Dave returned yesterday with glad tidings of great joy (read: car). And as he opened the door to greet me, Hellcat darted out the door and into the cavernous halls of our apartment building, never to willfully return again. Dave, seeing this as an opportunity to exercise good parenting, retrieved him and told him that if he had just waited until Dave was ready, he would have happily taken Hobbes outside. But since he had to have things on his own terms and be so inconsiderate, he would now have to wait.
Human: 2. Cat: 2
I’m worried about where this may go. There are even numbers on both sides now that Dave has returned but he and Lola have yet to officially join the war. There’s also a high possibility that if Dave expresses support for the humans, Hobbes will obey while he’s around and then take out his wrath on me when Dave’s not here to police him.
This is the next step in my transition to crazy cat lady: the suspicion of mutiny in the ranks. Last night I heard a cold, lonely cat wailing in the wind and per Dave’s issued protocol, told myself that cats were never intended to be domesticated and that it is only us that makes it such, that it will survive without my assistance, and that Dave will kill me dead if I bring another cat in the apartment. It was effective after fervent repetition But when Hobbes gave me the stink eye later on in the evening, I thought of that cold, lonely cat and how it would undoubtedly be on my side if I took it in.
This is how it starts. ♣
The Jackie Blog 
I LOVE this piece. It is really, really funny! Great writing!
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right now the cat is letting think the score is even. cats win every time. i have found it’s just a fact of life. i live with it. 🙂
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That’s why I need to get one and train it to be on my side.
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Thanks! I imagine you’re sort of inclined toward pet-themed posts 😛
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Cute. Living with cats is never dull. 🙂
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Right? And more will just mean even less dull! And more and more and more until my life is so chock full o’ fun I can open a cat playhouse.
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Hmm- cats are tricky- best to form a strategy for establishing dominance prior to Dave`s next trip.
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I have no idea how to do that. I could crawl around and bat them in the face and mutter something about Alpha Male maybe?
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The food on the floor from a well defended area and untouched by cat hunger… that’s a Lola trick, I’ve had her do it to me once before.
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I blame Hobbes for everything because he’s a fat bully. But upon further inspection, you’re right. This reeks of Lo.
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Read your piece after my cat, who wanting attention, knocked a noisy bottle of vitamins and a filled pencil cup onto the floor. I’m still laughing. You crack me up. Now I have to go play with him before he finds something else to mess up.
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Affection is always the answer, though mine can never seem to get enough. 🙂 Glad you enjoyed it and thanks so much for reading!
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Oh this brought tears to my eyes!!!! Maybe you need a cardboard cut out of Dave to perch in the corner while he’s away. I would suggest a Dave-ish blow up doll, but you know how THAT will end when Hobbes comes in to give him some lovin’. {{POP}} “What the ???? Oh I’ll show that no-good blankety blank blank!”
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Sonja, all this talk of Dave replications is getting kind of kinky. 😛
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Silly girl. If you’d left the cereal in the fridge where it belongs, Hobbes couldn’t have knocked it around. Absolutely love the blog’s new look. Great job!
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oh shoot, I always get that messed up. 😉 Thanks!
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Oh. My. Gawsh.
Demon Cat. That is a cat from hell.
But, uh, Domestic Cats usually Can’t survive on their own outside, they either go feral and live, go feral and get a disease, get re-adopted before they can go feral, or they get eaten/hit by a car.
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I think it was a stray that has always been outside and I was going to domesticate it 😉
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