Things Get Worse, Part II

I kept a wary eye out for the elusive "Princess" for a day or two. I never saw her, except as a gray shadow out of the corner of my eye.

I had enough to worry about as it was. Attila stalked the hallway, spitting at Scam and terrorizing Con. You would think that I would view Attila as an ally--a comrade-in-arms in the war against Scam and Con. You would think Attila and I would become fast friends and spend our evenings sipping milk together and congratulating one another. After all, Scam and Con were the undisputed powers-that-be before Attila showed up. You would think I would rejoice.

You would be wrong.

Attila had as much use for me as she had for Con. That is to say, very little. Con had a basket in a sunny spot in the living room. Attila confiscated it. I expected Con to complain, but I guess he was grateful just to be alive. He surrendered his sunny spot without comment, accepting a dark box in the garage where he was hidden by a mountain of paraphernalia. The only time he came out of hiding was when I came home from work. Then, he set aside his fear of Attila and ran through the war zone of the house to hide in my room. After all, I was his pet, and he couldn't leave me unguarded.

He guarded me rather well from a corner behind a chair in the bedroom. Courage has its limits, particularly in self-centered cats.

I wondered if Princess was a rumor--a joke cooked up by Tiny to keep me on edge. At the same time, I knew Princess must exist. There was evidence--piles and piles of shaggy gray fur on the floor that did not match the three cats I knew.

Oh, well. Princess was obviously shy, and the thought of her did not scare me. She couldn't be any worse than Attila. Attila was the epitome of the word "bully." She was the cat equivalent of that kid in junior high who takes your lunch money for "protection."

Besides, there's nothing frightening about a shy cat who is named "Princess." I was sure wherever she was, she was probably licking her dainty paw and humming Mozart. I pictured Princess as a timid bundle of sweetness who was trying to maintain some dignity among bad company.

Bless her little kitty heart.

Even as I envisioned this delightful little ball of gray fluff, unseen eyes watched me from the shadows--unflinching. A sinister purr welled up in the gray cloud behind the couch, and a sweet, tiny paw unsheathed its claws.

Princess was watching me.

To be continued.

Things Get Worse, Part 1

Optimists scare me. My mom is an optimist—a woman focused on the silver lining.

My theory is that every silver lining has a big, black cloud right in the middle.

Whenever things were as bad as they could get, Mom always came through with a cheerful song and a reminder that “Things could always be worse.” Being raised by such a lunatic is another reason I am this way, but that is a topic for another time.

Yes, things can get worse, and they usually do.

All the same, I should have remembered Mom’s incessant reminder when I was complaining about Scam and Con. Things could always be worse. So what if there are two evil cats in the house, bent on wrecking my peace of mind and vomiting in my shoes? Things could always be worse.

I was momentarily distracted by the silver lining of Con warming to my presence and didn’t even realize that the black cloud had doubled in size.

I came home from work late one night, creeping in like a burglar. Tiny was already in bed, so I took off my shoes at the door. I was just about to make a mental note to hide my shoes before Scam or Con filled them with unpleasant substances. That’s when I saw it—a beast so large and frightening, my heart skipped a beat.

One often reads of hearts skipping beats, but those accounts usually involve roses, chance encounters on rainy nights, or teenage vampires.

This was none of the above.

It was a monstrous cat with dark fur, and it moved slowly and steadily across the floor toward me. For a moment, I thought I was in the wrong house. No such luck. I was home.

“What are you?” I backed towards the door, “What have you done with Scam and Con?”

It crept closer. Scam and Con were nowhere in sight. From the size of the beast, I could only assume it had eaten them.

Right before the creature could devour me, too, Tiny appeared in her bathrobe and slippers.

“I see you met Attila,” she said, “Isn’t she a great big love-ball! She weighs seventeen pounds. Iddie biddie kiddie kat!”

The iddie biddie kiddie kat narrowed its eyes at me.

I found Scam and Con hiding in the garage.

As it turned out, Attila was the beloved feline child of Tiny’s boyfriend. She was old, very fuzzy, stubborn, and uneducated. I used to think Scam and Con were difficult to reason with, but at least they tried (successfully) to outwit me. Attila had no time or patience with games of wits. If she didn’t like your attitude, she sat on you.

Attila scared me to death.

I was in the kitchen one day when I heard a frantic meow for help. Con scurried up to me and started butting me with his head, mewing like a kitten. He led me, Lassie-style, to my room. Apparently, there was a burglar, a monster, or a big black cloud in my room.

It was empty. Con had foiled me again.

I grabbed the spray gun to give Con a taste of his own medicine. A split second before his execution by water, Attila stepped out from behind a chair. She walked slowly toward us.

Con hid behind me. If I hadn’t had the spray gun, we might have both been squashed and devoured.

Con expressed his gratitude by throwing up in my shoe. Then, he stationed himself in my room and refused to leave—ever.

To make matters worse, the house began to seem haunted. I caught glimpses of something pale gray in the corner of my eye sometimes. Or I felt unseen eyes watching me at all times. Did Attila have influence in the ghost world? I had a feeling the spray bottle would be ineffective against a ghost—even a feline one.

After several days of this, I came to an uneasy truce with Attila, who was apparently a permanent part of the household. I agreed not to go near her, and she agreed not to eat me. It was a good arrangement.

“I’m so happy to see how well Attila is adjusting,” Tiny said, “I’m glad she isn’t stressed out and sulking out of sight like Princess.”

Princess?

In the back of my mind, I heard my mom say, “Things could always get worse!” I had a feeling they were about to.

To be continued.