Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Battle Royale

Penwiper is living proof that, the like humans, cats roll for intelligence and wisdom separately.  He'll get into a confrontation with a housemate, start meowing when he feels trapped, and when a human valet breaks it up so can he can escape, he steps back ... and then stalks the housemate he was scared of 30 seconds before.

For example, tonight.

Billy and Penwiper started making noises at each other at the top of the stairs, right outside my office.  I grabbed the ever handy Mist of Doom, and mist first Penwiper, who takes the moist hint and backs off into the upstairs hall, and then zap Billy, who wisely decides down the stairs is a prudent (and dryer) place to go.

Only Penwiper decides Billy's orderly withdraw should be exploited.  So he reverses direction and charges down the stairs after our Senior Prince.

Allow me to digress here and point out that Billy and Penwiper don't normally fight simply because Billy is not easily agitated. It's not he can't fight -- in his younger days he would regularly have typical littermate wrestling matches with his brother ... and win.  He is also visibly larger than either Penwiper or Oscar.

So we had Penwiper the Doofus of Darkness versus Billy the Mighty Hunter on the landing of the stairs.  The noise was impressive, it scared me sufficiently that I charged downstairs as fast I could to break it up after 20 seconds or so.

The result? A picture is worth a thousand words:
Center Stage,
after 30 seconds of Billy explaining to PW
that attacking him is a really bad idea.
Note the lack of ticked short-haired tiger fur. That's all from a medium-haired tuxedo with white highlights.  It wasn't a knockout (or a vet visit), but all the judges awarded the bout to Billy.

The good news is that PW only seems to have one or two minor scratches.  His +2 Armor of Fluffiness saves his sorry self again.

Friday, February 2, 2018

Someone to Lay Down Beside Me

We now have four heated cat beds in the form of three bowls and one mat.
I installed each one at usual hangout spots:
  • Whitey's bowl is tucked in the corner of Katherine's office just past the head of her writing futon,
  • PW's bowl is in the opposite corner of Katherine's office by her desk, and
  • Billy's mat is where he likes to stretch out by my nightstand in the bedroom,
  • Oscar's bowl was originally in place of (and then moved next to) his favorite pillow on my desk.

They are, in general, a hit.
The problem is that two of the four aren't being used by their intended target.
  • Oscar looked at the one on my desk in fear. (Oscar was seen last night in PW's bowl.)
  • I moved Oscar's bowl to the bedroom next to Billy's mat as a second one for Whitey, but in the middle of the night I saw Whitey huddled in the middle of the floor while PW used the bowl.

This morning, I asked Billy what to do. He calmly looked up at me and succinctly said, "Well, how many cat towers do we have?"
The answer is eight, acquired over 10 years. No, I don't want buy more four heated cat beds. (Or three more, the Big Black Kitty Warmer Mark II may count as one.)
As Katherine pointed out, I should be glad he didn't just say "More kitty treats!" his solution to most problems.