Could there be peace coming to our household at last?
Since we adopted a male kitten last November, our small house has become a combat zone. Not for Nebra or me but for our old lady cat, Obie. This spunky kitten, Ares, god of war, has terrorized his housemate almost from the first moment he began to jet and spin out on the hardwood floors. At the time, Obie was at least a dozen times larger.
Ares’s first big trick was to leap over Obie by a foot or two. Then it was jumping on her back. Then jumping on her back and biting her neck. Obie yowled, hissed, growled and slapped but she was clearly intimidated. She was shadowed everywhere. She had to plan a path of least resistance to get to the food bowl or reach the litter box. At least, I thought, she would not succumb to brain rot.
Today, I opened up the front door to let in light and warmth from a beautiful afternoon. Ares shot to the door, sat on his haunches and stared out through the screen, fascinated with a world he rarely is allowed to visit. We call it Outdoor TV, and in parenthesis “for cats.”
Before long Obie sat behind him, no more than a foot away, fascinated by Outdoor TV as well. Ares turned to look at her and resumed his spectating. Like so many parents do with recalcitrant children, maybe setting cats in front of a TV is a good diversion for peace and quiet.
I’m hopeful this is the beginning of a good thing.