Cat Capers: I

I moved into my new flat in Norby with Magnus -a friendly blonde swede, who likes sci-fi and history- plus his 2 cats. Upon arrival there is no Magnus but plenty of cat. Tjosan is a siamese cat who if described in an elegant way looks like he belonged to an ancient Egyptian pharao. He would be just at home disrupting construction of pyramids, causing mischief inside all the tunnels and possessing more status and power than the average Egyptian peasant. If described in a not so elegant way he looks like a deranged, shaved squirrel. His full name is Chulalongkorn and he is all over the new people, Leylla and Farhang.

Fresh meat.

My mattress is bent double and he makes himself a den out of it.
A scratchy den.
His excited purrs sound like the stuttering engine sounds from a small motor boat battling the sea.

Morris is some kind of Norwegian forrest cat. I exagerrate not when I say he is the softest, most fluffiest and pleasant animal in Scandinavia. You can imagine her sitting on some cunning and evil criminal geniuses lap.
Not claw from Inspector gadget, better.
Not some Bond villain with a dodgy Russian accent, better.

When Leylla and her father leave, the three of us hang out in my room. They´re not used to coming in here even when it´s a bare room, now that is has new stuff for them to scratch and sniff they both seem happy. I see Tsu Tsan hide behind a suitcase and stretch his neck out stealthily to see Maurice. He then takes on a predatory position and in one leap flies 2 feet in the air and drops right on top of Maurice. The fluffy cat doesn´t have her super villain boss to protect him just yet and consequently is constantly attacked every time she enters the room.

Is this going to turn into some territorial battlefield, each of them wanting to earn the title of Top Cat?
Are these the types of cats that spray and mark everything?
Will these cats act like the ones in my recurrent dreams: hissing and caterwauling at me, trying to erase my face by scratching it to a raw mess, scraping to attack the thing I am coveting in my hands that I am so desperate to protect?

Yes, I´m wondering about these cats intentions towards my room and at the same time they´re probably wondering what the fuck I´m doing stinking up their new pad with my human odour.

I wonder if I should officially claim my territory by twatting the pair of them. Just a gentle, controlled kicking leaving them only slightly senseless, so that they would respect me as their leader, therefore not wanting to fuck with me or anything that smells of me. This started to make sense. Cats are notoriously arrogant and take advantage of their soft, animal loving owners. Maybe I would discover a new way to train them to some degree, not in a foolish dog and ball way, just to teach them a few boundaries? A few lessons.

Hmmm, those dreams were pretty fierce so i´m gonna leave them alone.
Random violence against animals that I like also seemed extreme, especially when I wasn´t their lawful owner.

I like the cats verve and attitude, so I try tactics of winning them over as allies. I can become their spiritual leader and friend instead, one who they admire and want to impress. Through patient play and care they will kow-tow to my control over the disputed lands through respect, not fear.

I dance a merry jig for them, this intrigues them and they sit watching me for many minutes. Soon after, I start working the crowd, pointing at each of them individually,crying out like a cat and giving them their own personal, private dance. I start throwing in clicking and general wailing noises and they´re lapping it up like it´s milk leaking from a fat, pregnant unicorn. I shower them with gifts of newspaper that they like to pretend is real so they can hunt it. I move the paper so they can chase it. How can he possibly top this I see in everyone´s eyes? The question is soon answered when I disappear to the kitchen, retuning with a cheese slicer and spoon. I rub them together making a divine, metallic noise, probably used by the CIA in the 60s to mimic an alien craft.

I´m entertaining the cats for a long time, after which I felt used and even a little violated. These cats didn´t want to be my friend. These cats didn´t want to love me. They just wanted the new live-in jester who has obviously been employed to entertain them when Magnus was at work. All I was was cheap entertainment. These cats didn´t wanna take me out on a pleasant, scenic stroll on a warm summer´s evening to clear my head and meet other, fellow cat owners. These cats didn´want to protect me from burgalars and other, bigger cats. No, they´d sell me out in a second, they´d probably show the burglars where I kept all my best stuff in exchange for some low-grade fish out of a tin. Fucking hedonists, if Jim Carrey came around with all his faces. His never ending, stupid, rubber faces then they probably wouldn´t acknowledge me ever again.