Tuesday, October 8, 2013


For a few weeks after the cat came back from his little adventure he seemed perfectly happy to be back to domestic life, but lately the wild has been calling. He is bored with safety and comfort and wants a little excitement again. He does seem to have had enough of BASE jumping, thank god, and now prefers to make his escape by barreling out the front door when my hands are full. Little bastard.

One of the key entertainments outdoor life offers is the opportunity to encounter and challenge his nemesis. This is an orange tabby stray I have decided to name, for convenience, Abraham deLacey Giuseppe Casey Thomas O'Malley (AdLGCTO'M). I hesitate to call him an alley cat - alleys are hard to come by among the tree-lined boulevards of Ballsbridge - but he is footloose and fancy-free, living by his wits in the big city, er, suburbs. Jabbers hates him.

The marmalade menace certainly seems to hang around the house a lot. One time he even dared to flirt with me - ME, the exclusive property of the Jabberwock - mewling and acting adorable in an attempt to get me to feed him, to divert Jabberwocky's precious resources to the benefit of this interloper, this nobody. This is behavior up with which Jabbers will not put!

He ran out on me this evening when I got home from work, which shocked me. I was so certain he'd never risk being away from home at suppertime, but this was a matter of honor. Half an hour later I heard His Highness' distinctive "go away or I will fight you" yowl and poked my head out the front door to see my Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, all puffed up and strutting like a BAMF, ready to show the upstart who was boss around here.

At which point I promptly scooped up my beamish boy and bundled him back in the house. Because *I* am boss around here.

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