The great move of ’09 has been fairly smooth so far. Everything went well Thursday, and the apartment is slowly starting to come together. The new king bed is so comfortable that I’m actually afraid of falling asleep on a Friday night and waking up sometime Tuesday afternoon. All in all, things are good.
The cats, on the other hand, have been coming along much more slowly than the apartment. Skittles — my girlfriend’s cat, the new cat in town and the only male of the three — is adjusting pretty well. After being skittish (pun intended) at first, he’s becoming more and more comfortable, and he’s tried several times to approach Trouble and 8-Ball in a friendly manner. Trouble is getting less hostile. 8-Ball? Not so much a lot.
But Skittles did something this morning that made me wonder if he’s brave, or just stupid. I fed Trouble and 8-Ball and, just as 8-Ball started to eat — her sole reason for being — Skittles tried to nudge her snout out of the way so that he could sample a few bites. What a bad, bad move.
8-Ball let out a hiss for the ages, her plume shot up like Medusa, and she raised her paw up threateningly. I’m fairly certain Skittles made it to the other side of the living room in fractions of a second that are usually reserved for timing the 40-yard dash in the Olympics.
I mean, honestly, what sane being would try to take food from an animal that looks like 8-Ball? I’m just happy I didn’t spend the remainder of the morning cleaning up blood, fur and cat parts.