Do your cats fight too?


My two cats get along well. This is not a given. At all. Different cats in one house can wage terrible wars. There are countless stories about cats that are being bullied and end up living in a cold outhouse, banished by their housemates. As a cat owner you’re as good as powerless to these wars.

So, I should thank the gods for Chatblis and Pernod. Every night they sleep closely together and they always clean each other’s noses and ears with their little sandpaper tongues. Still, I wonder how deep their love is. For example: Pernod and Chatblis love each other most when the temperatures are low. The cold brings them closer together and drives them into each other’s arms. During summer though, a hot patio wall is worth just as much as the love of a friend.

And of course there are fights. Frequently. And suddenly. One moment Mrs. and Mr. Cunning & Guile are lying peacefully next to each other. Five seconds later they slap each other so loudly it provides the sound effects of an old western movie.

Usually Pernod is the instigator of the fight. My little tomcat often imagines that I’m married to him and that we will soon start a family and have kittens together. Chatblis though hasn’t been invited to that party. The little darling doesn’t understand that at all. Over and over again she makes advances but every time she has a rude awakening. She can’t sit on my lap. Pernod will not allow it. She takes bites and growls. This goes on for days and days. Until her patience comes to an end.

I’m a privileged witness of Chatblis’ revolt against her dictator. She appears out of the blue and sits down face to face with Pernod’s nose while he is lying in my lap. And then she gives him a few generous whacks. Apparently without reason. Pernod looks bewildered from me to Chatblis. His eyes speak volumes: ‘Omg! Did you see what that mean girl did? To Me? She can’t do that at all!’ But Chatblis has controlled herself for long enough and refuses to be intimidated any longer. She ends it by giving Pernod’s ear a nasty bite.

Pernod’s bewilderment is memorable. ‘You’ve been asking for it for a week now, pall’, I tell him. But I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t get it. At all.

  • Publication out of the book Miauwkes’ by Veronique Puts. Like this story? Press the blue ‘follow’ button on the blog page and receive an email every time a new story is published.

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