I’ve always liked cats. I had cats as pets when I was a child, and I’ve always seemed to have cats in my life since those early years. In fact, I have two cats who own me right now.
I’ve never thought of myself as a crazy cat lady, however.
I’ve always felt that to really earn that title, there would have to be a lot more cats. The cut-off point is probably around four cats, maybe five.
Sometimes in life, unexpected things happen. In fact, it wouldn’t be life if everything always stayed the same. So, when my daughter moved back home unexpectedly, she also brought her two cats with her.
Let me just say, that if you are craving excitement, drama and adventure in your life, then you must bring together two sets of cats who have never laid eyes on each other before. You’ll have more excitement and drama than you’ve ever had in your life.
The first week was a blur. Technically, it was an orange blur of yowling, spitting, fur as four cats fought to the death in a vicious ball of teeth and claws that ricocheted from one end of my house to the other. Constantly. As in… all night and all day.
They knocked things off end tables and walls in their frenzy to kill each other. The hissing and growling never stopped, except when it was time to eat.
Then they called time out for 15 minutes and went right back at it when the last morsel of Little Friskies was gone.
Eventually, things calmed down a little. Ginger and Joey, who are my two cats, continue to walk about with an insulted air, because these intruders just will not leave.
Kitty and Szyszka (which means pine cone in Polish and sounds like shishka) have become airborne. They cover the upper perimeter of the house by jumping from the top of the refrigerator, to the top of the oven, to the top of the laundry room cupboards. One day, Kitty was sitting on the top of my back door. I don’t know how he got up there, all I know is that when it was time to eat, he managed to swoop down and eat his food, as well as cleaning Ginger’s and Szyszka’s plates, all in about three gulps.
There’s a whole lot of meowing going on too. Although not one of them gives the standard issue “meow” that most people think of when they think of cats.
Ginger will remind the newbies that this is her house and they are not welcome, by standing in the kitchen and yowling, with a “mohhhhhhhhh!” kind of sound. How they haven’t gotten the message by now is beyond me.
Kitty sings with a lilting “mowwwwWWWwww” as he flies through the air, while Szyszka throws her two cents in with a “meep meep.” My big kitty, Joey, just shakes his head and gives a disgusted, “murf!”
So, at any given time, one can hear, “mohhhhh! mowwWWww, meep meep, murf!” Over and over again.
The sad thing is that I’ve learned to identify them in the dark by the sound they make, and sadder still, I’m starting to answer them.
Yes, I think I’ve bought my ticket for the bullet train to crazy cat lady town, and I only have one thing to say about that. “Meep meep, murf!”