Clash of the Titans

Let me preface this post by saying that I'm not one of those "guys" that makes it a habit to bore the world with cat pictures and stories. I continue to stand by the fact that if I weren't married to a cat fan, my only pet would be the limbless creatures growing in my fridge. However, learning to like Lucy The Cat over the last five years has been an easy thing to do, especially now that I know that she has the potential to be the clawed victor in any feline death match. This was discovered during the two months we resided at my in-laws house, and Lucy (left) was forced to live with her evil aunt Tinkerbell (right).

Tinker and I don't get along so well, she's a Hatfield and I'm a McCoy. The problem is that she's allowed to growl, hiss and scratch, and in order to stay legit with the family all I'm allowed to do is shriek like a little girl and leap away. She might be winning the battles but I'll win the war, in that I won't be going to cat hell. Or should I say, back to cat hell. On the other hand, Lucy's like the Switzerland of cats, she's never hissed or intentionally scratched anyone, and is terrified of leaves and bugs. I was so proud of Lucy the Cat when she took over the roost after we moved in. Every so often we'd hear blood curdling cat screams a few rooms away and Tinker would come running through the house with Lucy nipping at her heels. I had to act like the disciplinarian so Randy wouldn't kick me out of the house, but every time Lucy swiped at Tinker a little scratched up piece of my pride came back to life. Take that you diabolical little she beast!