Every now and then, I get to write a blog and today is the day.
A lot of you blog followers (bless your hearts) were wondering how traumatic my re-entry would be so I'll share this with you.
We came back to Maine 4 weeks ago.
Magyck, my Maine Coon brother-by-another-mother cat was in shock the first day (I could tell by the look on his face he was clearly thinking, "Bloody Hell, I thought we were rid of you") and was tolerant of me slinking past him on his kitchen couch while he was being infatuated with Sonia. I'm not the jealous type because, well, I know I'm her BFF and she'll stick up for little ole me.
Ocho, the three-legged cat is sweet and welcomed me and didn't make a fuss. I'm not trying to form your opinion of Ocho, but, he's well, inbred. And Special Needs. And the sweetest feline on the planet. He ain't gonna get past the first spin on Wheel of Fortune if you know what I mean. But he has a heart of gold and we all adore him and he watches out for everyone.
Day Two of re-entry, I walked past Magyck (who was pretending to sleep on the couch in the kitchen). Then he unexpectedly slapped me upside the head with fourteen paws hitting me in all directions at the same time and then along my sides and hind end because well, he's a
After his attack, he was quickly given a home manicure. Usually this involves him howling like he's being murdered with a chainsaw (which sends Ocho into hysteria mode, upsetting the whole house as he tears around bouncing off the furniture like a dirt bike driver on crack). BUT, Magyck was very well-behaved about it as he smilingly plotted my demise and made plans for his future inheritance.
Magyck doesn't listen to anyone except Sonia. Doug admits he can't stand the cat because Magyck NEVER STOPS MEOWING. He always wants something. For the past 17 months he has driven Doug crazy with his incessant squawking ("My water dish isn't full enough, Ocho spat in the cat food so I'm not eating it now (arms folded defiantly), I don't like this new litter box".
He's like, 75 years old which is about mid-life for a cat like him. Cats like him outlive everyone. Just to piss people off.
Upon my return, my people decided to take me in the house first with Doug. Then, the cats would get a scent of Sonia (they reasoned) and hopefully Magyck would be less evil to me than he's been for most of my life. It worked! For 24 hours.
When we arrived, Magyck suddenly melted into a soft black fuzzy affectionate MUTE. I was loving it. We were all loving it. Doug was in shock. The cat hasn't left her side since we got back, he sleeps on her feet or on her laptop and after some initial scolding when he attacks me, he seems to have gained a miniscule amount of respect for me. Even though I weigh a hundred and thirty + pounds more than he does, he likes to rule the roost as he has for the past thirteen years. Nobody crosses this black cat's path.
She uses the highly effective "AH!" sound (it works for kids, dogs, cats and horses. And occassionally, she claims, husbands. But I haven't actually witnessed that yet). The cat gets it and now I am avoiding his snide kitty scowls and lack of hospitality, I think it's going much better. None of us like the AH and she's pretty perceptive about using it (eyes in back of her head).
He even got on the bed with me two nights ago. I avoided eye contact but I held my ground (pretending to be unconscious and practising not visibly breathing) and we all got along. Ocho was instantly banished. Three's a crowd.
One night, Magyck was skulking up the stairs (because he doesn't walk, he skulks) and I gave him a grrr to see what he'd do. It worked. He actually balked. It was awesome.
I've always been nice to the
Maybe, just maybe we've reached an agreement?
I'm still terrified of him, to be honest, but I'll practice "the look" with a slightly upcurled lip and see if that works. That means AH! in dog language. Nobody wants to hear/see that.
#bossycats #catswithattitude #AH! #ihopethecatdoesn'treadthisblog
No comments:
Post a Comment