Hooligans

I am surrounded by hooligans. They say I am old and mean. Harrumph, they haven't seen mean yet.

This used to be a very nice home. Jack could be troublesome, but after 15 years together, we had worked out most of the kinks in our relationship. Usually, I could count on him to groom my head and face at least once a day. His antics entertained our people enough that they left me in peace. I had long ago trained then to keep their distance and only touch me when I gave them permission. You don't hear about people going around picking up Queen Elizabeth and living to tell about it, do you? Same principle applies with me.

Then something happened to Jack. He started to shrink, literally. He lost interest in his normal activities. He let that little whippersnapper, Dirty Nose, bully him sometimes. That was not the Gentleman Jack I knew. The people kept taking him away and bringing him back smelling like the poke-at-you place. Then he stayed there long enough that his smell scared me. Then he went away and didn't come back.

I suppose our people think we don't understand because we are cats. Harrumph. I know perfectly well that Jack got so sick and tired of those hooligans that he left the country and didn't look back. I'd do the same thing if I felt more comfortable going outdoors without my entourage.

So now, instead of a suitably adoring, if occasionally curmudgeonly, companion, I have to contend with two hooligans. Smudge - he of the spot as permanent as Lady MacB's - and Frankie - the blind boy - are nothing but trouble. I do feel a little sorry for Frankie because he does not, in fact, see well and it makes him very skittish. (FYI - Skittish comes from the feline word "to skit" meaning "to act like a kitten.") But D.N. has nothing to recommend him. He crawls right up on my person and LAYS ON HER, sometimes even when I am draped regally at her feet on the reclining throne.

I give them a hiss and the back of my paw whenever I can just to keep them on their toes. I am the queen of this kingdom and if they don't show me the respect I deserve, they will be sorry. Let's not forget that the front of my paws have well-sharpened claws and I know how to use them. I've even taken a swing at my M. P. recently when she got between me and the hooligans. She will learn not to overstep.

The Queen of Hearts had it right: Off with their heads!

Queen Beatrix Autumn
(Trixie to her close companions)

P.S. My main person got out her traveling bag tonight and started putting clothes in it. I have been around long enough to know what that means. She will not be around for a while. It could be one treat cycle or it could be several treat cycles. Either way, I will be suitably crabby when she comes back no matter how many treat cycles it is. I hate going without my bedtime treats. The back-up person would give me my regular bedtime treats, but I prefer to keep him in his place by letting him pet me, but refusing to take treats from him. You can't let the people get too familiar, you know.