Our world has adapted to little Minh like currents redirect their flows and eddies around a boulder that lands in a stream. The world stops, and starts, for her; she is a princess.
No doubt it's only a matter of time before she insists on taking over when I'm on blogger.
Chairman Mao still has some hierarchy issues, is still coming to terms with the fact that his days as head cat are numbered, there's a female in the household. I try giving him guidance, assuring him that we all go through it, learn to adjust to our new place.
He talks less, needs less. But seems calmer than before, content, a warmer uncomplicated affection. Yesterday I came home late and I saw him through the window next to the door, sprinting across the room at the sound of my footsteps.
It's these unforced moments we cat owners live for.
I've started calling him Herbert, the name of my old cat in Darwin, by mistake. I'm not sure at all what this means. Herbert also had a smaller, upstart companion, perhaps that's it.
Minh; min-min kit-kit; sweetheart; is hilarious, slightly mad. She runs so fast it is hard to track her across the room with your eyes. He chases her around, inspired to new levels of athleticism himself- last night he leapt about 2 metres through the air from couch to couch.
Minh has rueful eyes that she uses to melt a simian at 5 yards.
I worry, though it's mostly play, that she experiences too much being chased and rough play at this age, Mao is now a pretty big, strong cat. I intervene sometimes, I worry about the times I'm not there.
She's certainly going to be tougher than him in a few months, she's already learned some pretty impressive techniques. The other day he was trying to bite her midsection, had got hold of a pinch of skin, and she did multiple double-hindkicks of death into his face.
Hell hath no fury, he'll learn!
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