Feline Household Dominator
Princess is the imperious feline dominator who condescends to allow me to live in the house I built. Gifted to my wife some fourteen or fifteen years ago, Princess is an outdoor/indoor cat with a decided preference for the former. She has sleeping arrangements in both the house and the garage, depending on the climate of a given day or night. Lately, with the overnight temperatures dropping below thirty degrees on most nights, she prefers the house with forays outdoors to bask in the afternoon sun.
When Princess wants out of the house she will go to the door and speak until attended to. Being part Siamese, she speaks loudly and most lengthly. The reverse is true when she desires to come back inside. Occasionally, she will come into the house, go and do the necessaries in her sanitary sandbox then demand to return outside immediately.
My youngest son, and Princess’ number two vassal, will attest that when she is hungry she will require an escort to her feeding dishes, nevermind the bowls are full. Her vocalizations are not to be ignored, either. Thankfully we are not required to act as her majesty’s food taster.
In anticipation of a long weekend to Los Alamitos, California, I was concerned about the weather forecast for the Mojave Desert; high winds, rain, night-time temperatures in the twenties, and the possibility of snow. My concern was, obviously, for her majesty’s safe comfort.
To replace the shallow feeding bowls, I purchased a set of those feeding dishes that semi-automatically keep the bowls filled with cat kibbles and water. The volume is plenty for two or three weeks, so the four-day weekend wouldn’t be a problem.
Several days before my trip, I set the feeders down in place of Princess’ usual dishes and was not surprised to see her reject them. Only when I would stand next to her (as a proper servant should) would she deign to eat or drink. If I was so impertinent as to walk away before she was finished, I was subjected to being chased down and scolded, after which she would (thank goodness) return to eat in solitude.
When I sneaked out of the house like a thief early on a Saturday morning, Princess was napping in a rocking chair with her tail curled around her face to shield her eyes from the light.
When I returned the following late-afternoon Tuesday, I barely got the front door open before Princess zoomed out. I’m sure I heard her growl at me on the way past.
As I was pouring my first cup of coffee the next morning, she was at the front door commanding me to let her in. Apparently she’d forgiven me for confining her for however brief an eternity; notwithstanding she’d had four rooms to occupy in my absence.
To make sure I knew my place, I was required to escort her to breakfast before I finished my coffee.
All Hail the Princess!