La Bataille

"Ladies, ladies, ladies", I say to them, What's this all about".

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Biff, bam, biff, bam, bam, bam, bam. The furry fisticuffs are fast and furious. In seconds two sweet kitties morph into savage pugilists with no thought beyond knockout victory. I call their continuing battles, La Bataille, because the French phrase seems to cast an air of dignity over their brutal daily braws.

Why they fight is a mystery. I treat them both the same. They're fed four evenly spaced, meals every day. They want for nothing. There is nothing to fight about.

I asked the opinion of my friend Eddy. Eddy has cohabited with many cats over the years. I figured he'd know what's going on. Eddy shrugged and said, "They're cats".

I'd hoped for something more insightful, but the more I think about it, Eddy's probably right. Cats are miniature panthers with jungle-thoughts beyond human understanding.

Thankfully, injuries are confined to pride.

Pumph after pumph is thrown without bloodshed because the kitties are declawed. Not my fault. They came that way when I took them in. I would never have anything to do with mutilating an animal for human convenience.

I can tell by their ferocity they'd prefer to have their claws back.

I would prefer they didn't fight at all.

The fights come just before meals. When the kitties hear food being prepared they charge the kitchen ready for battle and set to whacking each other. "ladies, ladies, ladies", I say to them, "What's this all about. There's plenty for both of you". They stop and stare. As soon as I turn my back to finish preparing the meal the brawl starts again.

All fighting stops when their meal is in front of them. Maybe the anticipatory excitement before the meal jangles some primordial instinct for battle. I don't know. They bolt their food as though they were starving.

They leave table immediately after, to lick-clean imaginary soiling. Then they retire to some favorite spot to rest and reflect. All is quiet, until time for the next meal.

Their rest and reflection is never side-by-side.

I wish they could be friends. Sometimes they give me hope. Yesterday, we were all out on the deck. I sprinkled a little catnip out for both. To my surprise both cats went to the same sprinkling of catnip.

To my further surprise they rolled around together like the best of friends. Then both rolled over to resume their romp with the remaining sprinkle of catnip.

Wow.

My hope was dimmed when the catnip was gone and each cat retreated to opposite sides of the deck. Ah well, it was something.

I reflected on what my friend Eddy had said, "They're cats".

La Bataille pauses for catnip.

It doesn't end.

By K. L. Shipley

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