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      Sunday, May 19, 2013

10:25 AM - 05/19/2013

The topic: You ever have one of those days?



Charlie had one yesterday.

We were both on our respective computers yesterday morning when we heard some growling on the patio. Usually we don't do much since it rarely escalates.

It escalated.

Charlie and Mario were in such a tight clench you couldn't get a stick between them. The growling wasn't loud, it's hard to be loud when you have your teeth sunk into another cat's neck. There was some fur flying, but they were more rolling around together than slapping (think boxers in a clench). We run outside, Brian goes toward them, me telling him not to use his body to break them apart. No feet, no legs, no hands, no arms. Keep your skin away from them. He picks up the dog pillow and starts whaling away on the large, moving ball of fur. It takes at least a minute for them to break apart. Mario runs into the house first, Charlie seconds behind him. Charlie heads down the hallway to the bedroom. I follow him, his face is bloodied. Then I look for Mario, can't find him anywhere (this was just a quick look to check health status).

All the cats in the house are freaked out. When I looked for Mario under the sofa, his old hidey spot, Katie came running out. I guess they could tell this was a pretty intense argument. I walked back into the office and there was Mario, under the folding chair in front of the printers. His usual floor spot in here. He doesn't seem any worse for wear, later in the day he protested when I touched the area under his left arm. He wasn't jumping much, but he's better this morning.

Charlie was invited to take one of his Xanax pills. He only gets a quarter of a pill, it's small and easy to squeeze in a moist treat. He ate it right down, spent the day on the bed.

I snapped a photo of him.

click for a larger pic

His nose was bloody. It looks fine this morning, just a little scab on the top.

Then, late yesterday afternoon/early evening, I went into the extra room to get my tablet. Charlie ran in after me. It's a game he plays with both of us, he'll sit outside the door if he thinks someone is in there and then dash in when the door is open. It's the only room in the house with carpet. We keep the door closed to keep the cats out. My exercise bike is in there, a little television with DVD players hooked up to it. Brian does his ab-rolling in there, I've got the laptops, my CD collection and books in there.

Sometimes I grab him up and take him out right away, other times I just let him stay. I let him stay yesterday, my hands were full when he ran in.

I forgot about it.

This morning, I hear a cat crying. Skip is sitting outside of the closed door.


I let him out, he ran to the food bowl first thing. I went in and checked, didn't see where he'd pottied. Not a lot of stuff pushed onto the floor.

Maybe he'd just been too tuckered out from the fight and Xanax yesterday that he just spent the time snoozing.

I wonder how long it will take him to dash back in again? I give it a couple of days.

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lisaviolet is sixty something, married with no kids, takes care of lots of cats, likes taking photographs, loves Southern California weather and spends altogether too much time avoiding her responsibilities.

In her spare time, she makes pretty things to sell in her store.

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