June 15, 2006


No, I'm not talking feline mistresses here. I am speaking of the Kingdom of the Kitty, something my home has become with a vengence.

In the beginning, there were Lucy, the raging queen and perpetually hormonal, and Lovey, the meek and mild and somewhat hairball challenged.

Then there was Valentino, the elder statesman, survivor of a bus accident, ratter extraordinaire, and cross country traveler who came into this household in January. He has yet to get either of these feline graduates of the Squeekie Fromme Charm School to be anything but Housecat Jihadist around him, but goodness knows he has tried.

Well, I just felt awful for him. Still do, because those two spoiled brats will neither befriend him nor leave him alone.

So last Thursday, while Jane and I were shopping for pet supplies at Petsmart, we did a terrible thing...

It all began so innocently, but these things usually do. A trip down the food aisle, a moment in conference regarding litter, a brief bit of levity amongst the kitty toys only served to lull the two of us into a false sense of being in control of our shopping trip. Oh, how false it was, betraying us greatly before we could manage to pay for our purchases and leave that place!

Jane kept looking around the store, as though there were something she specifically wanted to see. We had already taken in the parrots and hamsters and ratties and fish, so what could it be? There were no kennels in the back, no strange or exotic beasts tucked away...

But there was the Adoption Room.

I'm sure you all know where this tale is going. Her name is Veronica, in spite of the fact that the adoption papers list it as Buttercup. She's so pudgy she looks misshapen, the victim of her cuteness and the inablility of the Petsmart staff to keep their lunches to themselves.

She won't eat any dry food that isn't Lamb and Rice, and will only lick the gravy from the packets of soft food. When she tries to run on the hardwood floors, you can almost imagine a beatnik bongo soundtrack accompanying her rapid-fire and ineffective fancy footwork.

Veronica hasn't been any nicer to Valentino than Lucy and Lovey, but she hasn't been any worse either. I just hope that she warms up to his old, gentlemanly self and lets him be her buddy. He needs it badly.

Posted by Mamamontezz at June 15, 2006 08:42 PM | TrackBack
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