As I sit here this morning I am observing, and surrounded by, the ongoing Kitty Wars in my house. We have a middle aged female feline named Cheria (dunno why - it's something our daughter came up with when she was four years old). She has been queen of her domain since she joined us, pretty much having the run of the house. Even the two dogs defer to her.

About three months ago my wife brought home a small black kitten. A small black male kitten. His name is Mowgli (our daughter's choice again - she's nine, now) but we call him "Mo." Actually, I call him "Butthead" more often than not. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Cheria seems to have the nonexistence of Mo as her fondest desire. Barring that (and we have) she wishes him to get out of her way, leave a room when she enters, and so forth. Of course, Mo has different ideas. From Day One of Mo's advent into our house, he's wanted to play with Cheria. He runs up to her, she growls and hisses, and he backs off a few feet and waits. They'll do Face Off for hours at a time, with Mo dashing in now and then, getting swatted away, and circling for a new approach.

Now Mo is getting bigger, almost Cheria's size (looks like he'll out grow her) and getting more assertive and less playful. Now it's becoming an alpha male dominance play, but Cheria's still having none of it. The Queen will be Queen. So they dash through the house, hissing and snarling, only to find a new place to do Kitty Face Off, generally with Cheria on a high location - a table or the mantle or some such - and Mo (in Butthead mode) a few feet away, lower, looking for an opening.

They never come to blows (a few swats, now and then), but they never quit, until one or the other goes outside or into a closed room.

There might be some kind of message or meaning here. Maybe not.

Cheers!

Andy