Over the past week or so, spring has sprung in the Peterpatch. With it, it has brought a tidal wave of feline insanity to my house.
Picture this blissful little domestic scene. I’m curled up on the couch under an afghan, knitting and listening to the radio. Muffy is up on the back of the wing chair. Grace is on the pressback under the window, napping.
Suddenly, one of the many neighbour cats jumps up onto the windowsill outside. Muff sees him and starts hissing, which wakes up Grace.
And what to they do?
They start a great big fight – with each other. That doesn’t even make sense. I get Mr. Broom and separate them, but they just chase each other somewhere else and keep going until they’re tired of it.
Last night, I was sound asleep, sleeping the neocitron sleep of a woman with a bad headcold, and they started in my room. Have you ever been woken up by a cat fight in your own room? What a pain. Muffy is my regular bedroom cat. She’s not a cuddler, she just likes to lie on the bed with me. Sometimes Grace moves in for a cuddle when Elliot kicks her out. Grace is just like a big old teddy bear, you can go to sleep cuddling her and wake up in the exact same position. Generally, Muffy tolerates this, as it doesn’t happen very often, but not last night.
So, I chased Grace out into the hall with a pillow, and shut the door. Muffy proceeded to sit at the end of the bed with her ears plastered back, glaring at me and growling. I was going to kick her out too, but honestly, I was a little scared to pick her up.
If you know my cats at all, you know that this is like watching Care Bears or Teletubbies suddenly going over to the dark side. It’s just not like them at all.
So, spring has sprung in the Peterpatch, and the cats are possessed.