Currently...

Jupiter Jones, the adorable, giant-pawed kitten, is about to give our unholy terror of a calico cat, Foot Foot, a nervous breakdown. I am not exaggerating. For his first few weeks here, she tried to bully him, but those tables turned - - Jupiter is Foot Foot's arch nemesis, determined to unravel the very fiber of her being, dancing upon the remnants of what were her shattered nerves.

He pounces and gives chase, stalks her, pops her on the behind while she's at the water dish. Sometimes, he'll walk up and simply act like he's going to touch her. As Foot Foot is, although incredibly sweet, completely effing psychotic you can probably imagine how this situation might deteriorate. Amplify what you are imagining times thirty, and you'll have a hint of what happens any time Foot Foot so much as moves. In turn, we all suffer.

I have to admit - in some ways, I can relate to her. I know what it is to have an insistently playful male invade my space and wreak havoc, so I have tried to be understanding and sympathetic - - but then she popped Totsi the Dog hard enough to result in a dime-sized bald spot on Totsi's shoulder. (Totsi just happened to trot into the wrong place at the wrong time. Or she breathed. Could be either - an already crazy cat has been driven a little more crazy.) She is hell-bound determined to get out of the house, and nearly tripped me making a successful attempt Saturday morning, after which I had to chase her around the back yard wearing pajamas and flip flops with one eye swollen shut from allergies in full view of the neighbors. I don't know if she is the cat who peed on one of my purses, but that happened, too.

Foot Foot has most recently decided that she needs to hide in the bedroom other than when she wants food or the litter box. The problem with this arrangement is that she destroys any door she is trying to get through - be it to get in *or* out. I have a clawed up patch of carpet in the bedroom, and scratches on both sides of the door. She woke me up at 4.30am trying to get out. Five minutes later, she wanted to come back in. Totsi's water dish in the bedroom (which we had to set up because Foot Foot chased her away from the other), is now Foot Foot's - - Totsi can only drink if Foot Foot is out of the room or asleep. Following a scratch request to be let back in a few minutes ago, she sat in the middle of the room and growled most menacingly at nothing, and for absolutely no good reason.

My act of daring for the day? Getting this snapshot of Foot Foot.

She is under the bed now, being calmed by a selection of Bach streaming through Spotify. Bach is the only thing that works. Anything else is too enlivening, and gods know, we do not want Foot Foot any more enlivened. We want her damned well soothed and calmed, napping so hard she snores.

It's official. I want a vacation from the cats.