Crouching Tabby, Wretched Children

Crouching Tabby

Cheetah has allied himself with my enemies. No longer content to spend his days sleeping on every available soft surface in the house, he has taken to "crouching" and "perching."

He perches on top of the fridge and waits for me to open the door. Then, with a yowl, he lurches forward toward my head just enough to make me jump out of my skin. I swear, the furry bastard laughs at me afterward.

He crouches on the counter by the phone, waiting for me to walk by. Then he reaches out with a paw (claws sheathed, though) and bats at me. If I turn and bat him back, he sits up on his hind legs and bats at me with both paws until one of us gives up.

He perches on the headboard of my bed after the girls come into my room in the middle of the night to snuggle. He perches, purring, until we're lulled by the sound, and then he launches himself onto me, chasing my feet under the blankets.

He crouches on a dining room chair, hidden and forgotten as I sit, typing on my laptop. When I shift and put my feet on the chair across from me, he latches onto them and gnaws...gently.

It's either cabin fever for housecats or a kitty mid-life crisis as he rediscovers his inner tiger.

Wretched Children

On nights when I have them at my house, they come down in the middle of the night, 3 am or so, and climb into bed with me. I know I need to nip this in the bud, but I keep rationalizing it by saying that it's still early in the separation and if they feel that they need my comfort, then I'll let them. It works, too... as long as they sleep. Half the time it seems as though they view this time as "Playtime with Mommy." Hell no. Not at 3 am. Despite my inability to get back to sleep, I still don't need to deal with the two monsters arguing over who got a better piece of mommy that time.

Last night I had to kick them both out of bed, fix the blankets and the pillows and then get back in bed, this time, in the middle, and then ordered them to pick a side. Just as they'd settled down, the cat came waltzing in. He batted at my hair, and chased my toes, to the delight of the girls. Finally, all nestled up against me, he snoozed, purring; my girls nodded off, clutching their blankets; I, on the other hand, lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the shadows on the ceiling until it was time to get up and start another day.

Cease-fire

The Axis of Impishness and I have maintained a cease-fire this week, though I fear an outbreak in hostilities will be forthcoming this weekend. There was a slight incursion at 5 o'clock EST this morning when the 4 year-old kicked me repeatedly in the ribs as she tried to get "comfortable." The furry one attempted to take over my pillow and distracted me with numerous tail-lashes to the face. These events are likely to increase, since the s2bx has a conference down in DC, leaving me with the girls all weekend. In a pre-emptive strike, I am predicting early bedtimes for all small mammals in the vicinity (yes, I'm a Mean Mommy), although I suspect that the Axis will be launching an assault on all fronts sometime in the wee hours of Sunday morning in retaliation.

For your reference, here is a photo of 2/3 of the Axis: Lucy and Cheetah. Cheetah is the one with the whiskers. Don't let their cute and fuzzy exterior fool you: they are pure impish evil.

A battle won, but the war is still up for grabs

Caving unexpectedly much to my surprise, Cheetah ate all of his new cat food.

A-ha! I emerge victorious, or... did I? Could this be simply a strategic withdrawal to give me a false sense of superiority?

In a bold move, Cheetah has allied himself with Natalie and Lucy; Bush has his Axis of Evil, I have the Axis of Impishness. Late last night, they all crept into my bed and pestered me for hours until I banished them. Nevertheless, their plan worked, and sleep eluded me. Those wretched beasts know no mercy. I may retaliate later on with more banishments so I can get in a quick nap.

They count on their youth, boundless energy, extremely sharp claws and a proclivity for perching and pouncing, while I must rely solely on my superior size, the craftiness that comes with age and my ace in the hole- the fact that I am the One Who Feeds Them.

What is their aim in all of this? As I said yesterday, I suspect that Cheetah has his eyes on my luscious liver. But my girls... what could they possibly get out of this? Perhaps they just enjoy being wretched children.

Stay tuned, more updates from the front to come.