The crown is knocked off centre…

Today we acquired a new cat.

I had completely forgotten that I had offered to have a friend’s cat over Christmas while she was away.  Fourteen bumped into her at the shops a week or so ago and was surprised when asked whether she was looking forward to having Milly for Christmas.  I was highly embarrassed at having been nailed for the numb-brain that I am – I really have no recollection of offering to have Milly, despite being more than happy to do so.  On top of that, the friend whose cat she is happens one of the most reliable people I know – the sort who would come round at four in the morning if there was a problem despite the fact that she and her daughter (another Ten) don’t have a man or second carer about the house.

Stella, the old queen, is FURIOUS.  Her whiskers have been well and truly knocked out of joint.  At first, upon Milly’s arrival, Stella serenaded her in the same tuneless droning usually reserved for long car journeys.  Believe me when I say it’s enough to make your blood run cold.  Milly, in her turn, was quiet and unresponsive and didn’t seem too bothered.  Two hours later, when she was still in her box and probably a bit bored of the whole fuss and nonsense, she responded in kind by hissing and growling through the bars like a Very Big Dog.

At first, the children and Husband thought it would be a good idea to let Milly out of her catbox immediately she arrived but soon realised what a bad idea that was when Stella had her cornered behind the Christmas tree and was torturing her with the aforementioned caterwauling, so back in the box she went.  We spent a fairly tedious majority of the afternoon trying to cajole Stella into coming close to the box just to have a look inside.  For her it would be like looking into a mirror and seeing a younger, prettier and much slimmer version of herself but this proved to be no temptation.  It was outright war as far as she was concerned.

Milly decided fairly early on that all this hostility and  posturing was a complete waste of time and once out of the confines of her box, started enthusiastically exploring Stella’s territory.  Needless to say, Stella is in a big huff and is sulking under the table.  Whenever Milly comes near, she shouts at her and whenever Stella ventures out for a change of scene, Milly follows her like a faithful puppy.  Stella’s having none of it, though.

Anyway, we’ve tried talking to Stella, giving her special treats and attention and even explaining that there are two laps available for TV viewing (one was not at all amused when Milly decided to sit on my lap whilst we watched a recording of Live at the Apollo earlier this evening) but all to no avail.  She’s having none of it and has skulked off to sulk somewhere whilst the young, lithe one usurps her authority and veritably flaunts her position.  I had to laugh earlier when Fourteen said:

‘Aww, I feel so sorry for Stella.  She looks so fat and ugly next to Milly but I still love her.’

Phew, thank heaven for unconditional love….

Wow, a whole post dedicated to our feline friends.  I’m turning into the mad old bag lady with an abundance of cats…