4.25.2003

I have the best, smartest, most wonderful cat in the world. I got her 7 years ago as a kitten from a man whose national champion Persian queen had gotten knocked up by the grey tabby barn tom.

My Xenobia, aka Bees (as in the Queen Bees), is beautiful, and looks like those dark black and tan tabby Currier & Ives paintings of cats, very thick fur like a Persian but it is smooth and sleek. She has an enormous head and big big green eyes and distinguished whiskers. Very dainty Roman nose and a prominent chin.

She can't say her "R's" or "M's" very well, so she says "Wow" a lot. She also says "NOW" when she wants kittyfood or water or to go outside. She is a sweet cuddle-bug and loves me. She tolerates S, but recognizes that he is a large clod who likes to throw his shirt over her, and sometimes she likes it but sometimes she hates it. Also he usurps her place on the bed, which is of course right next to me, and sometimes if he's quiet she likes it when he pets her, but sometimes she leaps from the bed with a sharp "MAP!" and a flick of the tail. When she was tiny she would make a nest in my hair, now she prefers to climb under the covers with me, as is befitting an elder kitty.

She is a very smart kitty, and recognizes my role as her servant and caretaker. If something is wrong she tells me in her own way-- she refuses eat or drink or take care of other bodily functions. She is a good cat, and doesn't pee in the dirty clothes hamper for no reason at all, so when yesterday morning she made great production of climbing into the hamper, glaring balefully at me and then digging in the clothes and squatting, I figured something was wrong.

I scooped her up before she could empty her bladder onto my jeans and carried her, protesting, outside. There I learned the reason for her misbehavior...

Xenobia & S's cat Achilles, aka Cat Grubkin, aka Scurvy Shitbird, aka Asshole, have never liked eachother. We adopted him as a kitten when Beesy was 5 years old, and she violently protested his presence in her house. She was bigger and stronger, and would grab him and slam his head against the wall or the floor. But Achilles kept growing and growing and growing, and soon realized he was bigger and stronger, and soon after that he started pouncing on her, grabbing her butt, attacking her tail, etc.

She hasn't wanted to go outside lately, and since she only goes outside to take care of personal kitty business, and since she was obviously showing me there was something wrong by digging in the dirty clothes hamper, I stayed with her while she started digging in the flower bed. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the big orange Shitbird creeping up behind her, readying himself for a pounce on a defenseless peeing Bees, and it all made sense.

Would you want to squat in a flower bed if, while you were busy taking care of business, you knew you would be knocked down, bit, kicked, and chased by someone twice the size of you? I think not. Luckily, Achilles is of Mediterranean descent, and the bottom of my shoe displayed to him is enough to turn him away in disgust. He abandoned his Bees-hunt, she was able to go potty in peace, I solved the mystery of why she didn't want to go outside, and everyone is happy. At least until tomorrow.