Dominance games, night and morning...

S'okay, this will (probably!) be the last post 'til this evening; I'm off in an hour, heading for romantic Darlington (I was going to put a jokey link in there, to the local authority's website, but it's jumping and flickering and going crazy in my browser, so I'll spare you that) to run a workshop.

But I was genuinely worried about m'poor Barry last night, when I figured out just why he looked so low. He's always been one of those cats who carries his tail high - "Tail high, brothers!" and yup, we're definitely channelling Kipling - and last night it was sweeping the floor.

And Mac is one of those cats who comes happily to bed with their monkey: a couple of minutes' snuggling and purring, then he settled down - more or less in the middle of the bed - and awaited developments. Barry came, circled anxiously, went away again. Several times.

I'm used to going to bed alone, but waking up with Barry. Not this morning: no sign of him, till I was in the bathroom (and Mac wasn't). Then there he was, and tail high, so long as we were alone; I guess he'll recover.

And then it was breakfast time, and y'know what? Barry can eat kibble quicker than Mac can. Moreover, kibble is just a crucial, iconic aspect of Barry's life, he found the nerve to muscle the kid out of the way and finish Mac's breakfast for him. Which is the first time I've seen him win, and that's good too. ('Course, if I let this go on, it would get easier, 'cos Barry would just get bigger and bigger; so we won't do that. But it's got to be good for his ego. Which is important. I don't want to get involved in their dominance games, I certainly don't want to interfere - but I really don't want to see Barry crushed. Ah, me...)

First photo, latest news

The little bugger's almost impossible to photograph, of course, because he doesn't sit still for the seconds that my ageing camera demands. Even when its batteries aren't dying. I may need a new camera. Still, this is approximately what he looks like. More better photos later, prob'ly...

Meantime, I have had a nice day in Darlington (!), encouraging (why do I insist on the 'e' in ageing, but have no truck with any such in encouraging, when its purpose is the same? Aging looks awful to me, it insists that its middle g is hard; encourageing would be ridiculous. Sigh...) Vane Women to write fantasy. Don't know what kind of day the boys have had, but I came home to no great disasters. And "The Inn of the Sixth Happiness" on TV, which always makes me happy; so I sat to watch that, and after a while Barry slipped away from Mac and came to sit on me, which made us both happy. Until Mac came too, and sat on both of us; and even that Barry endured for a couple of minutes, before he wriggled out from under and went to sit on his Xmas stocking instead, casting baleful glances back...




They seem both to be able to get closer to each other without skittering away, and to be able to spend time at opposite ends of the house; both of these things, I think, are good. I do hope they'll be friends, though, sooner or later. Preferably sooner. I could live without ten or twelve or fifteen years of armed neutrality and/or suppressed loathing...