My cat. The tyrant.

I am the mother of a tyrant. There. I said it. Where did I go wrong? I’ve tried to do right by my little cat. *sniffle* She just seems to, well, enjoy terrorism. *sigh*

I don’t know where she gets it, I really don’t. I thought she was a cute little baby when she first came to me. She was so tiny, I could fit her in the palm of my hand. (Awww. I know, right?) She was too young to be taken from the mommy kitty, and she and I bonded instantly. (Or, so I thought.) *sigh* I remember how she used to curl up and sleep right under my chin every night. And I named her. Oh goodness! I NAMED her! *sob* Aria. A musical term for a solo song in an opera. Aria was my little kitten. She followed me everywhere. She would talk to me, in her own mewing fashion. Aria, the dear girl, was fond of human food too I discovered. Cheese. Tea with milk and sugar. Chips. Apple cinnamon scones. *giggle* The marshmallows from Lucky Charms cereal. Did I indulge her too much? Is it a crime to love your cat too much? Well?? IS IT???

It was when she was an adult that I came to see, slowly, what she really was. I had another cat in my home. Chino (short for Arlecchino) and he was big and lazy and resembled a baby black panther. (Except for one white toe!) Aria and Chino were best friends. They did everything together. Eat. Sleep. “Play.” Aria would pounce on him from across the room. Then Chino would just roll over and go back to sleep. *shudder* I should have known then! I should have realised. How could I be so stupid? She started showing violent tendencies. Stealing his food. (Was she upset that he was overweight?) Nibbling my fingers when I petted her. (Again, can I love my cat too much???)

These days, she lives with me in D.C. with my roommate and her two cats, Gru and Vector. (Yes, they match their movie counterparts in personality and appearance.) They are genetically superior to Aria, in that they are bigger and have claws. This was their turf before my little darling *sniff* came to live here (just until I move to New England, I swear! Just for a month or so!) And, I’m ashamed to speak of it out loud, but she’s terrorised the Gru and the Vector nearly out of their home.

(Are you sitting down as you read these atrocities? I warn you. They’re gruesome—no pun intended.)

She *sigh* intimidates Gru out of his own water bowl. He hides in a closet when she comes around the corner with the intent of satisfying her thirst. She, my little Aria, hisses at Vector every time he goes to sample her food. I’m sure he just wants to make sure it is fit for consumption! He’s just being friendly! But she just has to be sooooo mean. *shudder* And worst of all, she all but locks Vector outside, in the cold and snow, on the balcony! If she blocks the cat door, Vector is too scared to come in and walk past her, so he just sits there, well on his way to contracting hypothermia I’m afraid. She has created an atmosphere of terror and I’m afraid that many years of kitty therapy are in order, after she departs for states previously un-terrorised.

Where did I go wrong??? Was I a bad Mommy? *sob* She looked so sweet and innocent for so long. Now she’s a thug. It’s like she’s the Jets (from West Side Story) and she snaps her metaphorical fingers and Gru and Vector are the Sharks (only they’re cowardly Sharks).

If I’ve raised a cat who is a terrorist, should I even procreate and have human babies? What terrors will I unleash on the world? *shudder*

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