There is a small space: on my desk, behind my laptop, under my lamp. Little did I know, that in the 3,000+ square feet available in our house, this itsy bitsy less than a square foot would become the site of what can only be known as The Great Cat Wars.
It only seems fair to properly introduce the warring parties.
Contender #1: Ollie
Contender #2: Sophie
Sophie noticed the spot first.
(Please excuse the quality of the following images. I’ve done my best, but the lighting in the spot is terrible. Objectively, most things about the spot are terrible.)
Over time, Ollie noticed Sophie noticing the spot.
It is worth mentioning that, if Sophie hadn’t noticed the spot, Ollie never would have noticed the spot. He generally prefers beds and couches, and you know, actually comfy spots. He does not especially like the spot. However. He does not want Sophie to have the spot.
There is a long and sordid history of Ollie coveting ALL the spots. In response, Sophie has become somewhat creative:
Not pictured: her current favorite spot, which is inside our bathroom cabinet.
Sophie has proven quite a match for Ollie in hand-to-hand combat if she cares to fight, but frankly, she’d usually rather hunker down in garbage spots, because she’s a pretty big fan of garbage spots anyway. Still, Grant and I do not appreciate Ollie encouraging her garbage-troll tendencies. So, if she’s sitting with one of us, and he tries to harrass her, we send him on his merry way. Otherwise, we try not to interfere too much as long as Ollie isn’t being a mega-jerk.
It’s a thin line. And, through trial and error, Ollie has found exactly what that line is. If Sophie is sitting with us, he may not bite her or otherwise attack. But no one said he couldn’t sit next to her. Or stare at her. Or ever so gradually scoot closer and closer until neither one of them is comfortable.
This does not always work on Sophie. She can wait it out, and eventually, he’ll give up. She can nudge him back, and possibly make him slightly more uncomfortable than he is making her. Or, perhaps most deviously, she’s learned that she can occasionally poke him into biting her, which she knows will get him kicked out.
Most often, it is a Cold War. A war of glaring and nudging and patience. And it is waged daily, on my desk.
The most recent battle, as told via Ollie’s inner monologue:
This is usually how it goes: I start with a cute cat on my desk… I end up with nothing. And so, while sometimes Ollie wins and sometimes Sophie wins, inevitably, the real loser of the Great Cat Wars is me.