sunshine0221's Diaryland Diary

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Exercise is Evil and Causes Cat Fights

Exercise is Evil and Causes Cat Fights

For the past few weeks, I've been walking a few nights a week with my friend Michael.

He's a guy, so we don't plan. He calls me sometime between 9 and 10:30, and we go walk.

I appreciate the exercise, because without peer pressure, I would be either sitting on my butt in front of the TV. or alternately, sitting on my butt in front of the computer.

One evening a few weeks ago, Buffy followed me outside, and made it as far as the high school parking lot across the street from my driveway, wouldn't follow us any further, and she yowled. Now I am learning the cat language, and I know she was saying, "Don't go and leave me here! For some strange cat reason I can go no further, so you need to come back now. And hey, while you're here, how about a snack?"

It was pitiful, and I felt guilty for leaving her, but hey, exercise, and she was fine when we got back.

A few nights later, a young gray cat started following us. He had a collar, and I assume a home, but maybe he also had been spending too much time plunked down in front of the TiVo, and decided he could use some exercise. He followed us everywhere we went, including back to my house.

I started to freak. I am at my cat limit. I do not need cute young gray cats following me home, and I told him this.

Then Buffy showed up.

Buffy has been under some stress lately. She insists that she did not order a Mini-Me and wants to send Teeny back. There has also been a long-haired orange cat (look like what would happen if Spike and Morris had a baby) hanging around the house a lot, causing Buffy to have to make lots of kung-fu noises and guard the house and yard.

Apparently, Young Gray Kitty was the last straw, so she attacked him.

I am still a Cat Person In Training, and breaking up cat fights is not my forte. I threw snow at them. I gently poked at the pile o� cats with a stick.

About halfway through Cat World War III, Michael wished me luck with it, and headed back home. Thanks buddy.

The cats finally took a short break from the hostilities. I grabbed Buffy, and carried her up to the house. Her legs were flying like a windmill, but I managed to get her inside safely.

I gave Buffy a stern lecture about how fighting is bad, and that it is much healthier to talk through things rather than resort to violence.

Buffy yawned, hissed at Teeny, and went into the laundry room to take a nap on a pile of clean clothes.

So much for my cat diplomacy skilz.

12:34 a.m. - December 14, 2004

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