Saturday, April 24, 2010

Meet the Groupies

Yesterday, Maeve woke up on the Evil side of the bed (in whatever hell dimension she lives in) and about 6:30, she decided that Galway looked like a tasty snack, so she attacked him, cornered him between my bedroom door and the wall, and when he got away, she chased him down the stairs and got her hooks into him by the patio doors. I've never understood how she can catch him, since he's half her weight and she can't jump. Still half-asleep, I try to separate them and all I could think was "in what world is it a good idea to put these two in a 13-foot camper--with me?" In the general scheme of my life, I wouldn't classify myself as a cat person, but somehow I've ended up with two of them. Camping with them has been an adventure, that's for sure, since it's neither financially or practically possible to leave them at home when I leave. We're getting better at the whole thing, but it's still requiring continuous adjustment.

Galway is seven. He's skinny, black and gray tiger stripes, has green-gold eyes, and a funky heart-shaped white spot on his back. He's neurotic and pathetic and has no spine to speak of, but somehow that just makes him more adorable. He's also got separation anxiety issues that date back to before I adopted him from the local shelter--his former owners left him in their apartment when they moved out, without food and water for three days, so he really doesn't like to be left. Ironically, instead of that anxiety making him clingy, he's very aloof. His likes include catnip sprayed on his crinkly toys, electric blankets, and small places to hide. In the camper, his favorite place to hide is behind the microwave or in my suitcase. His dislikes pretty much begin and end with Maeve, who likes to sneak up on him and bite him. Neither of them have claws, so when he actually fights back (that's rare), it's like a battle of the cotton balls. Nickname: Pacha.

Maeve is three. She's got Siamese markings, with bright blue eyes, and she weighs somewhere between ten and twelve pounds. She used to be my grandmother's cat, but that didn't work out and I couldn't send her back to the shelter. She's pretty and she knows it--and expects fealty in the form of effusive compliments. She's more social than Galway and will wind around your ankles if she feels ignored. Her likes include adoration, food, and making Galway's life miserable. She's cute, but she's evil (but when she's being sweet, it's hard to resist). Her dislikes pretty much begin and end with an empty food bowl. And silence--she can't handle silence and thus feels a need to fill it with her voice. Nickname: Maverick.

A rare moment of not trying to kill each other. Okay, so they don't always hate each other. They just do better when they're not close to each other. Separately, they're excellent company and add copious quantities of character to my spaces.

Proof of Maeve's evilness: here she's smacking Galway as he's trying to do his business.

Galway hiding from Maeve, by crawling into my tool bag. That can't be very comfortable.

Galway: "If I'm between the curtain and the window, she can't see me."

Galway's favorite place in the whole camper: behind the microwave.

This is mine. Any questions?

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