Bullying & Blackmail...

Monsignor Furretti is, at the moment, top cat. It seems to be a pretty fluid arrangement - sometimes one appears to be in the ascendant, then the other. Anyway, Furretti has been monopolising my bed, the top of the wardrobe, and the cat beds. Miaowrini has had to try and find herself other spots; however, each time she identifies somewhere comfortable, Furretti decides that she wants it. The exception is when I'm in bed - Furretti likes the attention, and so sleeps with me. So far, the only spot Miaowrini has been unchallenged is on the chair by my computer... and given that Furretti has ousted her from all the other spots, I haven't got the heart to move her.

I've found that I'm actually checking to see if the cat is out so that I can sit down at my computer... If she's already curled up on the chair, I leave her alone (apart from tickling her on the tummy as I pass - she likes that!) Today, I managed to get to the chair first, so she had to slum it on the sofa...

Meanwhile, Monsignor Furretti has been ill. I noticed her drooling a lot on Thursday, and on Good Friday morning found that the spot she had been sleeping on was pretty wet. She felt a bit thinner than usual, and her fur suddenly looked scraggy, as if she hadn't been grooming herself. I also noticed that, when I fed her a couple of her absolute-favourite-go-mad-for-cat-treats, she spent rather a lot of time licking her chops.

I was rather worried, and phoned a local vet. The nurse reassured me, and advised me to leave it another day - not least because the basic examination fee, not including treatment, was pretty astronomical. Nevertheless, given that Furretti was obviously hungry, but off her food at the same time (a weird combination, I know) I decided to go to the local supermarket after Stations to get some smoked salmon. It's the feline equivalent of chicken soup, in my opinion, and I was worried. I thought that I could be forgiven for going shopping on Good Friday since it was for the cat, and not for myself...

By the time I got home, Furretti was out. I called her name through the catflap, and, after a brief delay (ten minutes during which I had visions of a dead or dying cat under a bush) she came in, closely followed by Miaowrini. I distracted Miaowrini with a large piece of salmon, and proceeded to feed Furretti her share in tiny slivers. They disappeared pretty quickly, and Furretti brightened up considerably. I have to say that, not having eaten anything myself, the feeding of smoked salmon to two cats proved to be quite an arduous penance.

When I got back home after the Afternoon Liturgical Action of the Passion, Furretti had obviously been grooming herself, she looked a lot less scraggy, and she even managed to eat some cat biscuits. She had a good night, and didn't drool as far as I could see, and so I decided to forego the trauma of the vet...

When I got home after the Vigil this evening, Miaowrini was looking a little sorry for herself. There was evidence that she had thrown up a furball, but it looked as though she'd lost dinner too. Out came the rest of the smoked salmon, and I found myself feeding small slivers to the two cats, one after the other. Much purring and guzzling of salmon ensued. Both cats looked rather pleased with themselves, and have now gone out of the catflap.

It occurred to me that I'm being played for a mug...