this is the wild west, baby. you may lay your whiskers on down cushions, manicure your spikes on ikea shelving boards and take your bread on a buffet line of vet-approved kibbles. don’t let such entrapments fool you for a second that primal catty nature does not reign like a God-given right in the big-eyed fur ball dozing next to you.
there are now 2 factions in the animal family. not conspicuous to the unobserving human eye but a game of life and death for a cat that is slowly falling out of favour with the queen bee and a tom that spots a certain ill-placed moustache.
yep, Chaplin the kitler is unleashing his mojo (or what’s left of it) on a predominantly matriarchal household up to now. the queen is not relinquishing her regal position just yet but there is definitely a truce treaty being negotiated between staring challenges, snarls, minor skirmishes and chalking of a school yard line down the middle of the animal family. and then unexpectedly, the adversaries give each other a tongue bath like Cleopatra and Julius Caesar.
this sophisticated rivalry between our queen and furr-her brings civilisation to animal family. bar room scuffles and brawls are replaced by parliamentary cunning, back-scratching and treachery as the new rules of engagement.
the black and white bishops are ordained. shrewdly-wired Blackie slides into Chaplin’s quarter while Suede makes good her life-long loyalty to the queen. it is Blackie that makes a direct line to everyone else that softens the clumsy hard edge of her bratty napoleonic furr-her. she is his perfect ally against the Rosie-Suede pairing that is formidably in size and chilly air of superiority.
Calico is the knight-ingale of grace, honour and a higher calling that takes no sides in a war she considers foolish and juvenile. she is the tragic hero that defends and licks wounded egos of fallen warriors as she mulls over their fallen nature.
Papa and Fruity stands apart as towers. they are good alliances but they give none and they get none.
so finally, that leaves Tuxedo, Smally and me to be tossed around by the winds of change. Tuxedo and Smally are hapless but there is really no good excuse for a cat of ideals like me, however modest. ultimately, i was the bishop without the cunning and the knight without the principle that left me out cold with the rest of the peasantry.
but I am learning the diplomacy of making peace and keeping it. and soon, they will have to craft a new piece for this animal family chess board – a 12th century Conservator of the Peace to my antiquated counterparts-at-arms.