The Black One

When the cats are particularly bad, they are, for some reason referred to by their color rather than their name. I'm not sure when it started, probably when they were fresh kitties are were often bad. But last night, the black one got in *big* trouble.

I had a cat, Kitty and Lance had a cat, Mesa when we were friends and dating way back when. When we combined households, I had always hoped the cats would become friends but that never happened. Mesa tried to reach out to Kitty to be her friend, but Kitty always furry-paw beat her. (nobody had claws) A few years ago, Kitty got really sick and I had to let her go. She was 12, she had a good kitty life, but I took it hard because she was my kitty and I had had her forever. I think maybe a week went by before Lance told me to go to the rescue league and get a new kitty.

So I did. I looked at all their kitties and went in one of their "play rooms" with a dozen or so random ones to see who played and who snuggled and who caught my eye. I ended up deciding that I had to have two kitties, rather than the previously agreed upon one. On the way home, I came up with a ton of reasons why getting two kitties was a better idea; but the main reason was that they would play with one another rather than bothering the old Mesa cat.

When I brought George and Henry into the house, Mesa was very wary. She used to be the only animal, and over the years she had to watch us bring in Kitty, then Eleanor and now these new kitties. A few months after the kitties were added, we brought home puppy Franklin so Mesa was really hating life. She ended up spending most of her time in the basement or in any room that Franklin and the kitties were not because she didn't want to be harassed or bothered.

Now that we no longer have Franklin or Eleanor, the kitties have taken to ruling the roost. Mostly though, it is the black one. He will literally hunt Mesa. You can see him stalking her; tail swishing, body low to the floor and eyes never leaving her. She sits there growling the whole time because she knows as soon as she takes a step to get out of his path, it's on. He will chase her until he corners her. Then you hear these ugly kitty growly noises that sound like someone is being killed. They're not, but it sounds awful. The hunting has gotten worse these last couple weeks…I think it had something to do with Eleanor being unable to get up and separate them and now that she is gone, George is really pushing it. Henry will sometimes join in the hunt if he thinks it is going to be especially fun, but most of the time he just sits and stares at her. Wearing her down with his gaze.

So, the last couple nights we've tried to put George and Henry in the basement so they can't hunt her while we're trying to sleep. It sucks being woken up by all the sounds associated with a hunt. But the crafty black one was able to get out of the basement around midnight. Its hard to say if he was proud of himself or upset with us, but he meowed for all he was worth in the upstairs hallway, just outside all the bedroom doors. He meowed so much and so loudly that he woke up Hannah and she called out "George is meowing now!!" Lance soothed her back to sleep while I had to jimmy-rig something to keep George in the basement the rest of the night.

I'm a little unsure how to proceed with this. I like when George and Henry sleep on my feet at night so I'd rather they not be locked up. But Mesa has decided she'd like to resume sleeping on our feet like she used to, pre-dog. And right now, nobody can get along. At least at night, because there are plenty of times when I'll come upon all three cats sleeping peacefully on our bed during the day and think, wtf? Why can't you do this at night?!