Saturday, March 19, 2011


Rocket has three feline sisters—Charlie, Cataway, and Tiki.

Charlie is mine…a sassy young inside/outside I-do-what-I-want calico. Cataway (aka “Fataway”) is the big-boned grey & white cat; Tiki is the bob-tail calico. Cataway and Tiki “came with the house” and live happily outside--with the occasional inside pillow lounging visits. Rocket’s arrival was easier for them than Charlie on many levels; they didn’t have to defend the house from a hopping, smelly dragon of a dog that had invaded the princess’ castle. A dramatic war had begun for Charlie. In Rocket’s mind, he was simply trying to make a friend. His methods were novice and messy. He pounced on her like Tigger on Rabbit, he followed her under the bed, tunneling after her like a gopher, and pillaged her toys like a determined pirate.

The word torture comes to mind when I think about Rocket and Charlie. If I could be permitted to anthropomorphize for just a moment, the looks of disgust and betrayal on Charlie’s face were clear and constant. She swatted at him, screeched at Amanda and I to please do something about “that beast,” and started heading outside early and often just to avoid him. Rocket was desperate for acceptance. He was not aggressive toward her, though his interest was pressing and obvious. He didn’t want to harm her, he was just looking for fun. His play bows couldn’t get low enough to impress her and would quickly get him a slash across the nose for even trying. (He has a scar to prove it). Occasionally, upon receiving yet another rejection, Rocket would hang his head with what appeared to be sadness at the refusal, but as soon as Charlie showed herself again, he would perk right up and trot across the floor after her.

Rocket didn’t give up, and eventually Charlie began to tolerate his presence. She will never admit this, but I’ve seen them rub faces when they think no one is looking.

Charlie has her own way of making is easy to see where Rocket could have learned the "pounce & run" technique.

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