Natural Law

Natural law tells me that by now the number of cats sharing my life should be diminishing - I have lost four in this year alone, determined to let attrition take its course - and yet, without my seeking them out, they find me be at it the duck pond or on my front doorstep in the arms of a pretty blonde who's mother knew I wouldn't be able to say no. The word "Sucker" must be emblazoned on my forehead for all the world to see. In the past month, the feline count has gone from five to four to five to four to five. It makes me dizzy.

This latest, a tiny, six week old, all black ( my greatest weakness) and yet to be named little boy has already made his mark. At the approach of one of the other cats, he mounts what would be, save for his stature, an impressive display of hissing, spitting, growling, and the comical sideways walk kittens favor when perceiving a threat. He has already taken several swipes at the black dog and made more than one advance toward the small brown one - the former met with a combination of hostility and bewilderment, the latter with abject terror. No pushover, this little one, his tough stuff attitude has already gained him a grudging respect. The smaller they are, I often think, the more they have to prove. The week ahead will be a handful as territory is redefined, dominance challenged, tempers soothed and patience tested.

After scolding one's cat, one looks into its face and is seized by the ugly suspicion that it understood every word.
And has filed it for reference. - Charlotte Gray