The princess

Princess is named well. She is the queen of the house. In her tiny little brain, even I am there to serve. When we brought her home, she looked like a kitten. Someone had driven up next to a child we knew, held a kitten out the window, and said, “Want to pet my kitten?” When the child took the kitten just to hold for a minute, the guy floored the accelerator and raced off. Turned out, the “kitten” wasn’t as young as she looked, probably because of malnutrition.

But Boo was in love. We had gotten Boo from a Siamese rescue group six months before, and he was entranced from day one. She did not feel the same. We put her on top of a table, and Boo kept stretching up to peer at her. Each time, she would hiss, he would get this hurt, squinty-eyed look, and his head would slowly lower, only to rise slowly again on another side of the table.

Eventually, he wore her down. Maybe she fell in love too; maybe it was just easier than fighting him off like Pepi Le Pew and the black and white cat in the cartoons. But they were pretty much inseparable from then on.

Princess has some odd habits. For example, she doesn’t seem to realize she is heavy, and so she will attempt to sleep on your chest. It’s really hard to fill your lungs with air when a 15-pound cat is sitting on your chest. Sometimes if I’m laying on my side, she will try to actually perch on my top-most side.

The other thing she likes is a cave. I have to lay on my side, pile pillows next to me, leaving a space, and hold the blanket over the pillows, creating a cave. Unfortunately, she often demands I create this cave in the middle of the night. When I’m trying to sleep. But she is the Princess, and I am there to serve.

She really doesn’t like having other girl cats in the house. She chases Kiki frequently, and has taken to stalking the kitten, Cleo. Kiki just lays down and says, “Fine, whatever, you win. Can we nap now?” Cleo is a little freaked out by the stalking, but she’s faster and can jump way higher, whereupon she looks down and smirks at the fat cat. We squirt Princess with a water bottle when she attacks the other cats, and the funny thing is, she has never figured out where the water is coming from. She never once suspects it’s me. But she is my lap cat, the softest cat of them all (being fat has its perks), and I love her like crazy.

Advertisements

About alisaacarter

I am a writer of young adult novels, wife, mom of three, lover of animals, former magazine editor, reader of anything paranormal, and coffee fanatic.
This entry was posted in My weird cats. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s