Postcards from the Neutral Zone

This afternoon, the cats finally came to blows, and they did so on that time-honored battleground–my lap.

I laid down for a nap. Athena, as is her right and tradition, perched on the back of the couch to supervise.

This looked like entirely too much snugglezone for Ben to pass up. I heard a “mrrp?”, opened one eye, and saw a big tabby head by my ribcage.

“Don’t do it, Ben!” I cried, in despair, but it was too late. He leapt into my lap.

Athena reared up, hissed, and smacked him a good one up’side t’ head. To her credit, there was no apparent claw, but bugger if some strange giant was gonna sit on HER HUMAN on her watch.

Ben vacated my lap so fast that my thought process–ohshitohshitohshit–got to about osh– and then he was under the coffee table, on his side, looking as harmless as possible.

“Athena!” I said, exasperated. She ignored me. This was cat business. My opinion was unimportant.

After much growling, they finally settled on an agreement. Athena retained the back of the couch. My anatomy, from the knee up, became a no-man’s-land akin to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Ben was allowed to curl up in contact with my feet.

I suspect the cats got to sleep long before I did.

Leave a Reply