George jumped up over the arm of the couch to land next to me, and didn't notice that Aubrey was already curled up right there and so landed right on top of her. A fairly impressive cat fight ensued a couple inches to my right, which was somewhat alarming (especially when one has a laptop in one's lap and is penned in by a TV tray).
More alarming is that as soon as the fight spilled onto the floor in front of the couch, Peejee (Aubrey's sister) jumped in to tackle George. I yelled at them and Aubrey broke off (zipping upstairs), and Peejee chased George under the kitchen table. A few "move chair with cats under it, thus herding out into the corner under the bicycle rack" later,
with peejee _totally_ignoring_me_ yelling at her, I finally managed to pry the two of them apart (again with the chair), at which point George zoomed into the back of the closet under the stairs with the cat box in it (where she remains, refusing to come out), and as she did Peejee turned and took a fairly impressive swipe at me. (She missed.) My response channeled the "O'rly" owl.
Peejee immediately realized that attacking somebody A) over a dozen times her size, B) armed with a chair, C) who feeds her... probably not the greatest idea, and proceeded to argue her case vocally. Alas, her vocabulary is limited to variants of "mreeeauerruwww", but she put some serious effort into it.
Fade came down to investigate the noise, and picked Peejee up (who hissed and flinched, but didn't try to claw her), and took her upstairs. Aubrey had already wisely retreated upstairs (not really her fault George landed on her, not really George's fault either), and Dragon had fled when the trouble started, not wanting to get any of it on her.
Peejee, however, is extremely clever. Which is not the same as wise. Peejee wanted back downstairs. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and lectured her a bit, blocking the way down (sometimes fairly explicitly with an extended foot). I shooed her halfway back up the stairs with a flip-flop, lecturing her a bit more.
At this point, Peejee started an exaggerated licking her chops repeatedly and quite theatrically. The food and water dishes are between the table and the bike racks, so keeping her upstairs might be considered unfair from that context, as she was pointedly reminding me. (More to the point, the cat box is downstairs, behind which George is still hiding. Keeping a cat away from the cat box can have consequences, which I wouldn't have put past peejee to attempt to leverage if she thought of it.)
So I backed off and let her downstairs. Thirty seconds later she casually sauntered past, went right past the food dishes, and started sniffing around the bike racks where the fight ended. Where of course George could see her, from the back of the closet.
Lying kiggy. (Carried _right_ back upstairs into Fade's office, where the door closes. Her protest, "Reeuureaaawwwwwooonnnn!", was duly noted. She is trying hard to work on her vocabulary, but just hasn't got the right equipment.)
Sigh. It took months for George to "come out of the closet", where she retreats every time I'm away from home for
On a related note, the "microfiber" material of the couch has held up pretty well to the cats so far, but this particular escapade put two fairly noticeable slashes in it, or at least noticeable once the impressive pile of George fur and shed claw bits was removed.
I started posting this in my other blog, but the intersection of "cats" and "drama" positively screams "livejournal". (Well, actually it sounds more like "lurrheeeaaaaauuuoouuwwwww!" Only more indignant.)