Hi folks! I guess Bella, the 1.5 year old female I've rescued is finally finding her 'oats'. She eats from Cleo's bowl, plays with Cleo's toys, and has been racing around here for three hours, only 10 days after her own "ground zero" (arrival)... including a play fight (no claws out) with the Great Cleo!

Cleo gave, and Cleo got back.

Picture a 13.2 pound, 8-year-old street fighter (Cleo) versus a year and a half old small 6-pounder (if that) engaged in mortal combat. Cleo had a few swift whacks given to the head, which she did not respond to; she was just too bewildered. Then Bella took off at supersonic speed. Cleo immediately leapt on to the coffee table, and sat between me and the TV, blocking my view. After a few pensive moments, she said, wide eyed, "What is going on? Who ARE these cats in my home; no one has ever dared to strike ME in the face!"

I told her sagely, that this day, Day Ten, "Bella and Tippie were destined to be killed if I hadn't brought them to our home. Ten days at the 'kill' shelter is all they get if no one rescues them. The same with you, Cleo, had I not have been at the right place at the right time... even more so with your sister, a very sickly wounded Velvet."

She *hrrruuphed", and left for HER room, and HER private chair; her ego wounded, she just didn't understand. She thinks that warm beds, warm obedient can-openers, things to play with, and good food are something any self-respecting cat has..

She just does not believe the spine-chilling truth.

Copyright © Bill Mason
February 8, 2002