Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Out for blood.


The house is up early this morning. It's all my fault.

I was chipping away at the old novel because I woke at 5am and couldn't submerge back down into sleep. At 6 I decided that it was time to feed the animals, so I passed the chicken wings out to the dogs and put the chicken necks on plates and served the cats in the laundry. So far so good.

I always leave the back door shut until the cats have finished, otherwise the dogs will come in and demolish the lot. So when the cats saunter out into the lounge, I get up from the computer, switch the kettle on for another cup of coffee and go to the back door and open it. The dogs surge in. There isn't much room because I've got a huge pile of clean washing that has to be folded near the back door, so I step politely back to let Molly and Murphy through, and in doing so step squarely on Daphne's foot.

She lets out a blood curdling sound the like of which I've rarely heard, and as soon as I realise and step off her foot, she shoots past Maris and into the lounge room. Maris, meanwhile, assumes that the dogs are attacking, and goes in for the kill.
The poor dogs, intent on reaching the laundry to clean up any minuscule scraps of chicken neck the cats might've left, suddenly realise they're heading straight into a full blooded attack, and start yelping and trying to retreat. I'm in the way. Maris herds them towards me, spitting and clawing. The sound is incredible.

I react like the pacifist I am and kick out at Maris, yelling, "Stop it! It was me, you idiot!" which didn't seem to defuse the situation much, even though it was true. Murphy is terrified and tries to crawl up my leg. Maris bypasses Molly and keeps coming, batting at Murphy and hissing until my foot connects with her and she shoots around the other side of the island bench.
The dogs come for comfort and I pat them. Maris, meanwhile, emerges from the other side of the bench and balefully regards them. It's clear who she blames for the upset. I try talking to her but she goes outside. All puffed up and in a huff. Daphne is nowhere visible. I follow Maris outside, but when the dogs come too Maris slinks under the steps. She lets Molly go down, but when Murphy follows she sticks her paw out from between the steps and has another go at him.

It's clear she's a Scorpio. She'll get her revenge.

When I go back inside, Molly follows, but Murphy is too scared to come back up the steps. Finally he makes a run for it. They curl up together in their basket in the lounge.

As I was typing this, Maris came inside, smooching and asking for pats. She'd shrunk back to her normal size. She looked at the dogs in the basket, and walked over to them. I could see Murphy, at the front, tense up. Molly just opened and closed her eyes again. Maris touched noses with Murph, then turned and walked away. What an idiot. (In the photo Maris is the one with the glowing eyes. )

4 comments:

Scott said...

Nothing more blood-curdling than the screech when you've stepped on a cat. Do you think Maris was motivated by self-protection or revenge for the wounded Daphne?

Precious_1 said...

lol! cats are funny creatures aren't they? We have a slip of a black cat that bosses around our black lab who is ten times her weight and towers over her!

Christine said...

Thank you, for making me smile. I feel better knowing that even half a world away there are Mom's who share some of the craziness found in my own home.

Found you while stopping off at Rhonda's. Have a great day!

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