Thursday, Dec. 02, 2004
Dear Diary:

I tend to use the internet for its intended purpose, which would be telling stories about my cats.

Oh, I know you've heard those urban legends, those seemingly plausible but ultimately fake tales that the internet was originally created for academic purposes or as part of an elaborate defence communications system.

Lies, all lies.

Yep, the internet was originally created so middle-aged women such as myself could inflict tell stories about our cats.

As my three loyal readers might recall, when my beloved cat Zoe died last fall I went to a no-kill shelter and adopted two cats, Norma and Enid, to fill the huge void Zoe left behind.

Integrating Norma and Enid with our male cat, Zubby, did not go easily but we eventually got the situation stabilized. In a Bosnia sort of way. Then a few months ago Norma disappeared, never to be seen again.

Zubby is not the brightest cat on the planet. However, when he gets a thought he tends to hold on to it tightly, perhaps because he gets so few thoughts. His current thought seems to be that if he runs Enid off the place then the property becomes his, all his.

He has begun a reign of terror.

Zubby is a very big cat, about 10 pounds of pure muscle. Enid is about 7 pounds and also very muscular. With a normal sized cat I wouldn't worry about her. A few tussles and we'd come to a stalemate.

The thing is, Zub is a brute. Zubby vs. Enid is far from fair, more along the lines of André the Giant vs Laura Croft. He may not be as fast and nimble as she is, but if he gets her pinned, Enid is in trouble.

As long as I'm in the house with them, there is an uneasy peace. Zubby has made it his diabolical practice to casually lounge at critical places in the house, checkpoints Enid has to pass through if she wants to get to food or the kitty litter.

I am turning into a sort of U.N. escort. Whenever I come downstairs from my office for a break of some sort, Enid comes with me, knowing that Zub won't pull anything while I'm around. Even with me right there, he glares at her as she inches past him towards the food or kitty litter, his whole body rigid with barely suppressed aggression.

I don't let them outside simultaneously anymore because I've had to run outside and bust up a couple of very intense cat fights. It has gotten to the point that when I leave the house I toss one or the other of them outdoors so that I have peace of mind. But we're sliding into winter now and it can get very, very cold here in the winter. In a while I won't have the luxury of leaving one of them outside for hours.

Two things about this make me crazy. Our vet has diagnosed Zubby with a heart murmur. He's nine already and she says he will not live to be a great age. I can't believe that spending the day seething at Enid is doing anything to prolong his life.

Enid is an extremely affectionate cat, very fond of other cats. If Zub had shown her the slightest inclination towards kindness, she would have shown him the same affection she used to show Norma.

Instead, I'm living in a fuzzy war zone.

It's shaping up to be a miserable winter.


P.S.—Apparently one of my three loyal readers forgot to take their meds and nominated The Big Adventure for a 2004 Weblog Award. The category is "Semi-Obscure Web Logs by Middle-Aged Women Who Write About Cats and Weightlifting". Or something like that.

As you can well imagine, the upper echelons of MarnCo (the ruthless multinational behind The Big Adventure) are deeply a-twitter. To whoever nominated The Big Adventure, I have eight words: Thank you. Now get back on your meds.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 908.31 miles.
Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck. Ten percent there rubber duck.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers

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