A Tale of Two Kitties

     The one thing that is certain, is that if you know me, there is a very great likelihood that you will inevitably be written about in this blog. Having forewarned you, I will continue. One of the things that has been on my mind lately, are those 'Did this really just happen,' moments that make me laugh. Such as this one. What follows is an absolutely true story, in which I will change the names to protect the identity of everyone involved. However, suffice it to say, I am not exaggerating in any way. But this made me laugh when it happened, and I still laugh about it years later.
     There was a woman, who I will call Nan. Nan was an older woman, in her seventies at the time. She was asked to 'cat sit' while the owners of some particularly obnoxious cats went on vacation. Now when I say obnoxious, I mean these cats, if they were human, would make the Kardashians, the "real Housewives' and Nancy Grace far more tolerable people in retrospect.
     The first cat, the eldest, I shall call Hilton, since she has the same frail, emaciated physique of Paris Hilton and all of her endearing qualities to boot. Come on, who doesn't love Paris Hilton? The cat flounces (arthritically) around the house as if she owns the joint, and if she deigns to look your way it is with such derision that you actually feel guilty for having intruded upon her royal presence.
     The second cat, now that's the one you want to watch out for. That cat, who I shall call Falco, (the birth name of David Berkowitz, Son of Sam), has all the same qualities of a serial killer. This particular cat likes to lay in wait of any unsuspecting visitors in the house. At any given opportunity, Falco will attack for no apparent reason, (aside from the sheer joy she derives from disemboweling her victim), and she becomes a feral thing, all teeth and claws and spit and yowls. It's so much fun. Tee fricken hee.
     Personally, I believe every person who enters that particular home should be outfitted with a full out hockey goalie uniform. And a can of mace.
     Just saying.
     So anyway, Nan, who, even at her age was as tough as nails and could take on a band of terrorists single-handedly and come out on top, agreed to take on this perilous appointment, though with some reservations.
     Now, just put aside for the time being, that there is a killer cat on the loose, stalking Nan's every move (if you can anyway), and take this in. As if things weren't difficult enough, having to avoid one cat outfitted like Rambo in the jungles of Vietnam who wants you dead, dead, dead, skewered on the ends of her claws and dead, (I can't possibly make this any clearer), (and yes I know this is a run on sentence getting longer by the minute), while at the same time suffering the disdain of the decrepit one who looks like she might keel over any second, (someone give her a burger please!), on top of all of that, these two cats had particular nutritional needs besides. For this reason, the two cats had to be fed separately. Falco received her kitty kibble in the kitchen, while Hilton's elderly kitty mush was delivered to the bathroom for her supreme highness's approval. There she would sit and stare at the bowl as if deciding it's worthiness of her consumption. And often, true fact, her 'mother' would hand feed it to her. (Something Nan refused to do. Right there witcha, Nan!)
Now, as much as Hilton had to be convinced, cajoled, connived and coddled into eating, Falco had no such reservations. Given the opportunity, she would race into the bathroom and bolt the mush down as if it were goose liver pâté and caviar (which it might have been for all I know). If Falco had had her way, Hilton's death by starvation would have been accomplished some time ago.
     Okay, now you've got the set up. On with the Tale of Two Kitties.(Ha ha- couldn't resist!)
     The first morning, Nan let herself into the home with her key and set about feeding Falco first. Smart move on her part, distracting Falco with food whilst she made her escape. She should have put a little Ambian in it. She would have had all the time in the world to get away while Falco was snoozing, dreaming little kitty dreams of gutting Nan like a fish.
But alas, kitty was no where to be found. All the 'here kitty kitty's' in the world weren't bringing her to ground. So Nan set about feeding kitty number two. She headed for the bathroom to prepare Hilton's mush, and there she found Falco laying in wait. Literally.
     You see, there was a shelf in that bathroom where Hilton ate. And Falco was sitting on it.
     Falco eyed Nan. Nan eyed Falco. They were measuring each other up. Falco found Nan wanting. Nan was pretty sure she could take Falco.
     Hilton was sitting in the hallway taking it all in. No doubt wondering if it would be mush on the menu or entrails.
     Nan ordered Falco sternly out of the room. Falco squinted her eyes at Nan. Nan ordered her again. Falco hissed. Nan reached a hand out to nudge Falco.
     Now I have to say, with any ordinary cat this might work. But we are talking about Falco. She has notches in her gun belt that even she can't remember who she killed to get them. A cat like this, a friendly nudge just ain't gonna cut it. Not unless you're delivering it with a wrecking ball. Even then I have my doubts.
     Naturally, Falco took this as a challenge and the fight was on. She reared back and delivered her first blow, complete with an ear-shattering howl. Five claws raked down the side of Nan's arm actually tearing through her shirt and the thermal one underneath. Had she not been thus armored, she would certainly have been visiting the ER for some brandy-spankin' new stitches. Luckily for her, the gods were on her side. And the ball was now in her court.
She grabbed the first thing she saw, a book on the back of the toilet, and whomped Falco a good one, knocking her off the shelf.
     Falco, stunned and defeated, flew from the bathroom still hissing and spitting, but determined to live to fight another day.
     Shaken, Nan sat on the toilet, and for the first time read the cover of the book.
     'Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul.'

Somehow we don't think her story will make the book. But it made the blog!