Demon kitty

Last night Abbie curled up on her new dog bed and Terry curled up on mine. Well, more like draped herself across my legs, which is standard sleep time procedure. Terry had seemingly resigned herself to losing out on her enticing new bed. She knew it was hers and she wanted to try it out so badly. But Abbie hissed at her and said, “Back off, sweetheart, it’s mine.” Terry obliged. She wasn’t spoiling for a fight.

In the middle of the night, however, Terry woke up and thought she’d give it a try—curiosity and a never give up attitude being her strong suit. Maybe that lump of a cat had moved on or something. No harm in checking it out, right?

Suddenly there was a cat scream of such volume and intensity that the paint started peeling off walls, my heart about stopped, and I think I was pretty close to being one with the ceiling.

Terry leaped back onto my bed in a single bound and trembled violently enough to make the whole bed shake. She was stricken to her core. And Abbie stood in the middle of her new dog bed with her back arched and her tail as big as six normal tails.

So, I think all issues of bed ownership have now been permanently settled. Abbie has spoken.