The Cat Fight

My mom’s key in the door brings me out of my nap. I yawn and stretch; arching my back high, and pushing my front paws along the back of the sofa. I can hear Marty and Stacy, the seven-year-old twin’s excited voices. They are always fighting over me; today I will let Stacey brush me, as Marty is usually too rough anyway.

I jump from the sofa to greet my family. First, I will gently rub against mom’s ankle to remind her to feed me, and then on to Marty, that will make Stacey jealous. What? Mom just stepped over me. She is carrying a box; that is it, she did not want to trip. Purrrr. Hi, Marty. He steps over me too. What is going on?

“Look Tabbey, we have a new baby.” Stacey drags me over to the box. A strange and horrible sound comes from inside, I pull back. Mom opens the box.

“OH, she’s precious” Marty picks up the screeching creature and cuddles it to his chest. “Look, Tabbey a new kitty.”

“What shall we name her?” Mom asks

“Smokey,” Marty brings the creature down to my face, I hiss and run away. “Oh Tabbey’s jealous.”

I am not jealous; I shake my head at him. You plunged a fur ball with teeth and claws at me.

“Oh poor Tabbey.” Stacey sings in my face.

I do not want pity. I shake my foot at her. I will go to my window seat until this beast is gone. A quick face wash or maybe I will just lie down. Wait, I have to stretch to see, what are they doing? That is my food bowl. Mom, don’t give that beast my food. I must go and stop this. I run to my bowl and start to eat, but Marty pulls me away. “Let Smokey eat first.”

I will not. I pull and twist my way out of Marty’s hands and run back to the bowl. The creature spits at me and runs under the table. That’s it you little beast run and hide, this is my food.

“We’ll get Smokey a bowl of her own.” Mom goes to the cabinet and brings out a dinner bowl. “Maybe Smokey would like some warm milk.”

Some warm milk. I want some warm milk too, Mom. Give me some warm milk. I run to her and rub my side against her leg; she likes that. “No, Tabbey, go eat your food. This is for the new baby.”

Why do they keep calling it that? Marty picks me up. “I’ll put Tabbey outside.”

No, not outside! No, please, let me go. I twist and turn, but cannot free myself. Outside, what did I do? Mom, help me! Stacey! Marty tosses me down and shuts the door. I claw at the door, but cannot open it. I cry out repeatedly but they ignore me. I have to see what is happening in there. I will go to the window; if Stacey sees me, she will let me in. There she is, Stacey let me in. I put both front paws against the window and cry out, louder than before; I must make her hear me. There! She sees me, she is pointing at me. She is laughing.

The little beast is lapping warm milk; the family is sitting on the floor around her. I hear a car pull into the drive it must be dad. He will let me in. I run to meet him.

“Hi Tabbey, what are you doing out here? Come on let’s get a treat.” I quickly follow him through the door, then dash past him and head straight for the kitchen. Without warning, I pounce on the new kitten, sink my claws into its head, and bite down on its neck. It kicks and claws my belly, which hurts so I let it go. It defies me and arches its back. I do the same, showing her I am much bigger. I hear voices yelling, but I ignore them as they ignored me. Then dad’s voice “let them alone, they are just getting to know one another.”

Thanks dad, I knew you would understand. We circle one another; a low growl escapes from my mouth. She growls back. Spunky little thing, I had expected her to run away. I slap at her, she hisses and slaps back, batting the air several times. With a snarl, I attack again, she fights back yowling and clawing. A lucky shot gets me in the eye. I back off to lick my wound. Dad picks me up and comforts me. This is not over, Kitten.