Little Miss Meow

Don't be fooled by this precious face. Miss Kitty is PURE EVIL!

Kitty is prone to major temper tantrums.

"Grlrlrlrlunnnn!" she says every day, the minute I get home from work. Before I can even hang my coat, she's off to the kitchen, rumbling through the house like Sonic the Hedgehog.

As I follow, my two other furry meow-meows, Boycat and Girlcat, also run by and nearly cause me to trip. While I prepare their food, Boy and Girl stare expectantly, but patiently. Miss Kitty, on the other hand, makes all kinds of demanding noises.

I'm convinced she has learned to say my name.

"Kaa-rr-in!" A brief pause, then again. "Kaa-rr-in!"

Sometimes she sounds like a pinball machine, or a doorbell, or anything that dings. Or, in her case, mings.

"Ming-ming-ming. Ming-mak. Ming."

She never shuts up. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to hear, "Ming-ming-ming. Ming-ming." She doesn't want anything in particular. She just has something to say.

Usually, after feeding time, I retire to the living room. Her belly full, she relaxes for about an hour, but for no longer than that.

Then she's back in the kitchen. This time, she's hissing at the alley cats that hang out in our yard. She scratches furiously at the sliding glass door. Once she realizes she can't claw her way out, she gets REALLY MAD, and she grumbles, or depending on her mood, she belts out a screech as loud as a siren. Then she runs from the kitchen into the living room as if she's on fire. She claws the carpet or a piece of furniture, until Paul yells, "Hey!" and runs back to the kitchen, claws the window again, runs back into the living room, and zooms up the stairs two steps at a time.

Then, from the bedroom window:

"Meow! Meow! MEOW!!!"

And then she cries and cries and cries and cries...

Until she gets tired. She comes partway down the steps.

And then -- THE EVIL STARE.

And she just sits there and stares, with total resentment, as if all of her misery is ALL MY FAULT.

I plead, "Kitty, I love you. Please don't look at me that way."

I go to the steps to pet her. For a moment she forgets her anger and rubs her lips against me. But the second I rub her the wrong way, no pun intended, she cries, "Meow-meow!" and she runs down the stairs and dashes into the kitchen again.

Once she tires of the histrionics, she crawls ever-so-slowly toward Paul, who is sitting on the couch. She lifts one paw and moves it toward his belly at a snail's pace. He is usually reading or using the laptop and he'll say, "Don't even think about it Kitty," and he'll knock her away.

"I would never push you away!" I say to Kitty, but she doesn't listen. She only has eyes for Paul.

And so she tries to climb aboard again. He relents. She crawls onto his belly and does "The Paws". She kneads his belly like dough, until she begins to distend her claws. Paul can only tolerate that for so long.

But he usually tolerates it long enough to make her calm. And once she's calm, Kitty retires to the floor.

That's where she is right now. As I type this, she's licking her vagina. The sounds of lapping are very loud. She's finally calm. Let's hope she's stays that way.