The Carpet Bagger's Journal — moving from NYC to Mississippi

December 27, 2009

The kittycat siege of Vicksburg

Filed under: Southern blog posts — annebabson @ 10:42 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

I have been in Vicksburg, Mississippi for about a week now, and while I have spent my time mostly unpacking and cleaning in anticipation of the arrival of my future mother in-law, now here, the transition to a new home has been an absolute melodrama for my cat.

A victim of conspiracy?

First, the person whom she loved and trusted, with whom she had an amicable commerce of tuna and caresses – out in her clearly defined one-cat  territory of a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn — broke all treaties.  That Indian giver of a pet owner unceremoniously shoved her into a box and put her in the back seat of a car where the intricate chemistry of her inner ear, permitting her to land on the head of a pin while leaping from a tall cabinet, was violated by the involuntary bouncing around of 1,300 miles of highway.  For three nights, when they would stop, and this brute of a treaty breaker would allow her out of her shackles for a few hours, she would think that perhaps this was her new home and the torture was over, but no, at dawn, the next day, she was shoved back into the box with only the rudiments of comfort and nourishment.

Finally, when this evil two-legged she-devil was crossing the state line of Mississippi, the cat courageously escaped.  She chewed her way out of the box’s mesh gratings just enough to get stuck in it.  In order not to be trapped forever in its jaws, she chewed her way out of her Petco-purchased “calming collar” and shimmied out of a harness and leash to climb in the front seat to meow her protestations to the owner of both her and this horror-vehicle.  Alas, the horrors did not end there.

At first glance, the place she finally arrived after all this indignity looked like kittycat Beulah land – plenty of tall cabinets to perch on and to jump down from, a large wilderness filled with birds to chatter at and field mice to stalk.  However, she discovered a rival for the best peeing places – the neighbor’s cat, who smacked her on the nose and cornered her under the car.  This battle – a struggle of unblinking staring contests punctuated by scratches on both sides – continues.   Call it the cat siege of Vicksburg, where a rebel local meets a union interloper who claims the right of freedom from car captivity.  The human Civil War siege of Vicksburg lasted a long time, and so could this one.

Far worse, however, the cat made the discovery that she was sharing a house with – shudder – a small dog.  The enemy fired a round of barking, but kittycat replied with a scratch on the snout and a leap onto a chest of drawers.  Then the enemy regrouped and chased the cat up a tall tree.  Humans intervened, but when their backs are turned, each enemy eyes the other in a Mexican standoff of assured mutual destruction, hissing and snarling.  The enemy raided her food bowl, and in retaliation, the cat feasted on dog biscuits.  Again, with more barking and yowling, the siege continues.

War is hell, said Sherman fighting the human battles associated with this region.  Kittycat war is purgatory, and despite many caresses and more tuna, the real cause of this battle was surely the move from Brooklyn – all the human’s fault.  They said of the human Civil War that it was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.  Perhaps my cat can convince her rivals that they are all just pawns in some sick human game to manipulate them and keep them docile.  The invisible hand locks the leash and cleans out the litter box – beware the true conspiracy.

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