Beware Of Battle Cats

While my mom is in the hospital I have brought her cat to my house so she won't be alone. I'm beginning to think she may have been just fine living the solo life given how she's been reacting to my household.

As I sit here writing, there are puncture wounds on my wrist throbbing away. These wounds stemmed from a ridiculously ill-thought out attempt to pet this cat while she was hiding in the back of my closet.

My mom has had Ginger for about seven years. As a frequent visitor to her house I have seen this cat approximately six times over nearly a decade. She either hides under furniture or a quilt on a bed practically 24 hours a day. Miss Personality she is not. On the other hand, my cat, Sashi, a Maine Coon cat mix, is the life of the party. Given the opportunity to put a lampshade on his head and swing from a chandelier, I think he would. These two do not see eye to eye on any level and seem to be keeping a safe distance from one another.

When my son Ben got into bed last night he was startled to hear some growling and hissing coming from under his bed. Ginger eventually came out, and Ben, animal lover that he is, began to pet her. She acquiesced to the attention, but growled and hissed at him the entire time.

In some ways she's a low maintenance pet - I leave food and water out, and miraculously in the morning it's gone. It's like living with Vampira the cat.

I'm happy to do what I can to help out my mom while she is recovering, but I think from now on Ginger and I are going to have a distant, yet cordial relationship. I don't think my limbs and digits are up for anything closer.