Sunday, August 25, 2013
Kitsey and I have made a lot of progress. She likes to lay right in front of me, flopping on her back in a most unladylike posture - legs all akimbo. She doesn't seem to mind if I pick her up and put her in my lap. She hasn't figured out that she's welcome to jump up, so she plays in her litterbox and flip flops clear across the room when I'm seated.
Last Monday when I headed out to work, well by golly, that was when she decided she wanted in my lap. When I was putting my socks and shoes on. Anything to delay me, I guess. Now? Not so much.
When I took these pics, I had her in my lap with me in the recliner. I couldn't keep Rooster out, but Kitsey's world view has me picking her up and coming to her.
Good luck with that, cat.
And right after I took these photos, I was bitten. I slapped her, and she didn't leave my lap, preferring that I continue to pet her. And not five minutes ago, she was on my bed as I walked by and was talking to me. I figured she wanted petted, so I did. I was attacked instead, and about bitten. If she had claws, I expect I'd be sporting some good scratches. So I slapped her again.
I get the feeling that any sort of discipline is totally foreign to her - that she's pretty well gotten away with whatever she wants to do in the past. That is all fine and good, but we have some rules in this house, and one of them is that you do not bite the hand that feeds you, and that you are required to stay off certain furniture. That's about it for cats, and it seems pretty simple to me.
Rooster would forget sometimes and have to be reminded, particularly about climbing all over the furniture. Kitsey hasn't gotten very far past the idea that she might be held accountable for her transgressions, and that some of her actions are in fact transgressions.
I hate being the asshole, but I'm not gonna allow biting and clawing. She started it, I'm finishing it. I'm the dominant one in this house. I'm not real wild about never being able to trust her - whether I'm gonna get my hand bitten off or be glad I'm handing out attention.
Whether she spends time in my lap, under the bed mad at me, or in the litterbox mad at me is totally up to her.