A Disturbance in the Force

She is sitting on the external half of the window unit, demurely grooming her white-tipped paws and unaware of - or unconcerned with - the chaos unleashing itself within.  All five inside cats have gathered around the window in a tight little circle of hostility.  Backs are arched, tails are switching, and the language is shocking.
Drawn by the low hissing and growling, the dogs pace back and forth anxiously - they can't see this newest intruder - but they sense a serious disturbance in the force.  The kitten, a pretty little thing, I have to admit with a heart shaped face and tufted ears - startlingly lynx-like - exhibits no interest whatsoever in the domestic drama unfolding on the opposite side of the window.  She finishes her grooming, yawns delicately,
stretches out and prepares to take a nap.

This arrogant complacency is too much for my own little ones.  They can't reach the trespassing kitten so they turn on each other and the result is anarchy - undiluted and nerve-wrackingly loud - a ceramic bowl skids off the table, the blinds come down in a crumpled heap, a chair is overturned.  Scattering and scrambling, the cats fly off in all directions and the dogs, alarmed at the sudden escalation of the situation, turn tail and race for the safety of the bedroom.  It's finally enough of a racket to attract the outside kitten's attention - she rouses slowly, glares at me as if it's my fault - then gracefully and sure-footedly jumps to the wooden fence and strolls away and out of sight.  Of course I can't know for sure, but I have the distinct impression that the whole thing was as carefully planned and executed as a military coup.

I pick up the pieces, separate and scold the cats, find and reassure the dogs, deliver my usual lecture about peaceful coexistence and tolerance.  Because it's November and due to turn bitterly cold, I'm compelled to bring up gratitude and the fact that but for the grace of God, it might be them on the outside looking in.  The cats - entitled creatures and casually immune to my empty threats - listen politely then wander off.  The dogs crawl into my lap and take notes.

With the possible exception of the little dachshund - I know he was rescued from an animal hoarder but don't know details - none of my little ones have ever known real hardship.  They've never gone hungry, never suffered from the shelter-less November wind, never been endangered.  They take their home and its comforts for granted.  They're realists and don't waste their worry on the less fortunate until the less fortunate wind up on the window unit.

Funny, how they remind me of humans.