Cat Update: They're Fine, I'm Not

Summer must really suck if you’re a black cat. Temperatures creep upward, but you’re still stuck in a fur coat that soaks up the sun. Darth Jingles usually enjoys her outdoor adventures, not coming home until well after dark. (Tales of the local cat-eating foxes don’t scare her!) When the weather started getting warmer, our delicate little sweetheart decided coming home around lunch time was fine. Air conditioning is where it’s at.

Then we got Princess, and Jingles didn’t want to play inside anymore. First, we had the nerve to bring another cat into her domain. Plus Princess wore a cone for over a week, which just freaked Jingles out. Now that the cone is gone, they’re back to hissing at each other and making the kids break up cat fights. Luckily, Jingles has taken to sleeping with her boy every night now, behind a closed door. That doesn’t mean there’s less drama.

The other night, Hubby and I were rudely awakened by shattering glass at about three in the morning. The Boy was up playing video games, which is a rant for another time, so he was the first on the scene. The previously mentioned teen who’s in a lot of trouble by this point left his midnight snack leftovers on the kitchen table and Princess decided to help herself to leftover pepperoni pizza. That cat will eat anything.

Fine, we cleaned it up, sent The Boy to bed, took the cat with us, and drama over. No. Princess has taken to cornering Jingles under our bed. Why? The obvious answer is ‘why not?’ but I don’t think that’s it. Jingles has a basket in my bedroom window that she likes to snuggle up in and stare outside. Princess didn’t take any interest in the basket until a couple of days ago, when she suddenly decided that’s where she wanted to nap.

Not to be out-annoyed, Jingles took up residence on top of Hubby’s brief case, lying on a chest at the foot of the bed, where Princess sleeps nearly every night. Princess started this territorial nonsense, but didn’t care for Jingles one-upping her. That’s when the cornering under the bed started.

Have you ever heard a cat fight under your bed? How about at four am? Am I painting a picture of the complete lack of peace and quiet that is my house right now?

The Boy is forbidden from sneaking downstairs in the wee hours of the morning to play video games with his friends (who also have no concept of time of day) because it almost always releases Jingles into the general population. Jingles doesn’t pick the fights as near as we can tell, but she’s not very good about avoiding them either. It’s like she makes a rude-kitty-gesture then runs for it, leaving Princess to get scolded for chasing her.

Princess is still learning the rules, and she’s being given a lot of leeway simply because she’s a pretty cat, and she thinks she’s a dog. I love neurotic in my animals. I’m serious. She begs, she walks on a leash better than Jingles – who we trained to since she was a kitten, she plays fetch – and brings back the ball! Both cats love straws, but Jingles loses interest once the paper wrapper is gone, and only carries them by the end. Princess doesn’t care about the paper, she just likes carrying a straw around in her mouth – from the middle, like a bone.  No reports of her burying them in the litter-box yet. She’ll get there.

Both cats are two years old, essentially teenagers in kitty-years. Except I already have two human teenagers. Now I also have two feline teenagers.  Four teens . . . it feels like more somehow. I’m starting to feel like I belong in one of my own books.