El gato de Diablo
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Lucius—my 6.5-year-old tuxedo cat—kicks ass and takes names when he feels threatened. And today he did. Although, to be honest, I’m not sure it was threat or dominance that drove his attack.
I’ve been living with my girlfriend Britney almost three weeks now. It’s going well between us. The cats are a different story. She has two—a 14 pound Siamese (gorgeous and needy) who we call KittieBear, and an 11-pound semi-aggressive gray raccoon-striped cat. (Tough guy.)
Enter Lucius. We’ve kept him in Britney’s son’s empty room (now filling up with my boxes). (Her teenage son mostly stays with his dad now.) But slowly we’ve experimented with letting him out into the living room with the other cats and her dog, a border collie. The dog is fine. Klause, the raccoon cat, seems more or less fine.
Enter KittieBear. He is not so far a fan of Lucius. He does what Britney and I now call ‘sirening,’ wherein he yowls very loudly, mimicking the sound of a police siren, but slower. It’s intimidating. At first it was almost diabolical; shocking. It’s interesting because in the very beginning Klause was more aggressive towards Lucius and K.B. Slowly backed away whenever he encountered The Foreign Agent (Lucius).
Now the dynamic has switched: Klause ignores, K.B. hisses, growls, yowls, sirens. He wants The Foreign Agent arrested. Each time they get close we spray water and snatch them, moving each to a different room. We want to let them fight it out but we’re nervous. They all have their updated shots and trimmed nails. But still. They have sharp teeth. And feline rage.
Today, K.B. was sirening so I put him in our room. The dog, Klause and Lucius remained with me in the living room. I started writing. I’m working on a novel based on my dad’s terminal cancer. About half an hour in I hear a scuffle and hissing and turn around: Lucius had suddenly rushed up to Klause, who was on the couch, and started batting the air wildly with his black arms and white furry paws. Lucius got on two lean legs—like a bear—and swatted ever harder. As if to say, Accept me, bitch! Klause hissed in return and stood his ground but he didn’t look joyful.
I leap up, grabbed the spray bottle, and started spraying them both. Klause fled almost immediately. Lucius—el gato de Diablo—kept slicing the air with his raging talons. I sprayed him several times. Finally, he calmed and meandered away. I moved Klause to another room with K.B. Lucius hid. I took a deep breath, shook my head and started writing again. An hour later Lucius appeared, happy and purring and being adorable. Split personality? Maybe. Psychopath cat? Perhaps.
But I love the little fucker.
I love a good pet story! That was great! I hope you achieve world peace amongst the critters. Our cat, a Siberian stray who we call Mystery, is no fan of other cats but she loves our dog Loki, a 65 pound border collie/lab cross who is the Pied Piper of the neighborhood. The cats love walking with him down the road. Anyway, when we had a new cat in previous years we rubbed the new one down with a sock around her scent glands and let the other one sniff it and gave her treats to encourage good feelings. Eventually they bonded. Who knows if it was that? But I always thought it might be.