Day 246. Jealous Kitties

Well, not exactly jealous.  More like possessive.  Where I’m concerned.  They’ve always fought over me.  But lately it seems to have escalated somewhat.  They’ve got theboysme surrounded at all times.

My boys.  Bartlett and Sundance.  They’ve always sort of been rivals.  I guess you could say they’ve always had a love/hate relationship.  It was tough on Bartlett.  He was the third to join the family.

First was Zazu and she loved being the queen of the castle.  After a bit of a rough start she accepted Sundance and started mothering him.  He let her boss him around a good deal of the time, although he let her know pretty early on he was no wimp, so it didn’t take too long before they became pretty good friends.

She never let him forget how lucky he was, she took him in, though.  He usually let her think she was in charge.

Poor Bartlett, on the other hand, was an unwelcome intruder for a pretty long time.  He and Zazu never got along.  And, like I said, he and Sundance have been on again/off again.  There are days when they’re the best of friends; and there are days when I’m afraid one of them won’t make it out alive.

Chasing, hissing, hitting, punching, huffing, wailing, wrangling, running, you name it.  Until I have to give them a time out.

They’ve always been watchful where I’m concerned.  If I seem to be paying more attention to Bartlett, I get this sad, why-don’t-you-love-me look from Sundance.  He must have been a Jewish mother in his previous life, because no one does guilt like he does.  And if Bartlett thinks I’m ignoring him, in favour of Sundance, I get pouting.  Major pouting.  And whining.  Major whining.  Muttering.  A lot of huffing.  And then I get the cold shoulder.  I think he was a stage actor in his last life.

So I have to be very careful.  If I pat one, I must remember to pat the other.  Must not upset the babies.  I’d never hear the end of it.

But they’ve never been as territorial as they are now.  Used to be, Bartlett owned the bed.  He claimed the pillow next to mine a very long time ago.  That side of the bed has been his for ages.  Sundance took ownership of the couch.  As far as he was concerned, as soon as the TV went on, I became his.  Same goes for the table where my computer is.  But for the past month or so the rules have changed.

They’ve decided they have joint custody of me, and all the furniture.

Both sleep with me.  Bartlett’s on one side of me, Sundance on the other.  As long as I’m in bed, even if I’m just there reading, so are the two of them.  They each have their side.  So far, they’ve never changed sides.  And it’s up to me to make sure they both get the same amount of attention.  In an effort to keep them both happy I tend to pat them both at the same time.  Lucky for me, I’ve got two arms and two hands.

Except it’s kind of uncomfortable.  I can’t really relax.  And it makes reading impossible.  Not that either one of them care.  They’re not too crazy about me reading, anyway.  They don’t like me doing anything other than paying them attention.  The phone is their biggest nemesis.  They hate the phone.  When I’m on the phone they squawk and nudge me until I give up and hang up.  Sundance has been known to nip me from time to time, as well.

Spoiled rotten, they are.  And demanding.

It’s not just the bed, though.  I’ve told you Sundance only likes to drink from the tap.  So he’s waiting for me, in the bathroom, when I get up in the morning.  He runs in there the minute my alarm goes off.  Well now, so is Bartlett.  He can’t jump up on the vanity, so he’s lounging on the mat in front of the sink.  They both follow me into the kitchen.  They both follow me everywhere.

When I eat breakfast they’re each on a chair.  One on either side of me.  When I work, Sundance is on the table, sitting right beside my laptop.  Bartlett is on a chair; and, occasionally, he’ll even come up on the table as well.  With this defiant look in his eye.  As if to say to Sundance, “Screw you!”

They’re both pissed off when I go out.  And they’re both sitting and waiting for me, at the front door, when I come back.  And then, moving as one, they both head directly for the bedroom.  That’s my signal.  No matter what else I have to do, it can wait.

Cuddles come first.  And God help me if I take my time joining them.  There’s no end to the whining and complaining.  Times two.  I’m just their love slave, it seems.

21 thoughts on “Day 246. Jealous Kitties

  1. Wow – you really do have “kitty issues times two.” My cat shows a lot of the same behaviors, but at least I only have to deal with one. Last night I finally decided to get some friggin’ sleep so I put her in the guest bedroom around 1AM. It was nice to stretch out and put my feet wherever I wanted.

    Love the photo. Have a good day 🙂

    • Thanks! It was really interesting when Zazu was alive. Kitty issues times three! That could have been a reality show. You have a good day, too.

  2. Our cat, now in her 16th year has never been an indoor cat only comes in in the evening to watch her evening meal being readied, she would probably pass over quickly if she got the pampering of your feline friends, our Rhodesian Ridgeback was also an outside animal, we will be getting a replacement this coming June which will encourage lots more exercise. It would appear from the cosy life they lead you will be in situ for a long while in Toronto.

    • When you live in an apartment, going out isn’t an option for kitties. When I first got them I did live in a house, but it was right in the heart of the city, downtown. Way too much traffic for this over-protective mom. There are some places I might move where they could certainly come with me. What will never happen is that they would be left behind. Thats not an option.

  3. Am I glad my kitties are a little more laid back. Though Bazinga doesn’t like it much when Sam decides to join us in bed. She’ll either hide under the covers or sit in front of the closet meowing and rattling the doors. (why the closet, I have no clue!)

  4. I too am a cat tragic, ruled by a bossy, fluffy tortoiseshell named Lucy Locket. She sleeps beside me when she deigns to, but she often prefers her own bed now with one of my old cardigans in it. We call it “cardigan bed”. When I come home with work – which she would prefer me not to go to, incidentally – she rushes down the hallway to meet me, runs with me to the study where I put away my brief case, then rolls on the floor for a pat. Then she must scritch-scratch at the floor under my bag. Then I am dismissed to go do whatever it is humans do.

      • Bossy bananas, every last one of them. Also, if I’m working at my desk past 6pm, she gets annoyed, nudging me and meowing. This is despite the fact she has been fed at 5.30. I usually go out to the living room to watch the news at 6, and if I don’t, she becomes most perturbed. She has her own dish of water on the bedside table, which must be changed each day and filled nearly to the top.

      • Absolutely. I’ve loved cats since I was a toddler. My mother always laughs, because I still have a cat attached to me as I did when I was little. She says I still carry them in the same way, too. Takes her back to when I used to try to make them wear bonnets and booties and sit in my dolls’ pram…and then wonder why they ran away, dashing down the road, the ribbons from their bonnets flowing behind them. These days, my cat is strictly indoors, except for our enclosed courtyard, and she has to be content with catching the odd moth, fly or cricket.

      • Mine are indoor too. Their primal instincts have been replaced by their attachment to down-filled pillows and duvets. Although if a fly does manage to get in, it doesn’t stand a chance. They’re off and swatting.

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