Queen of Our Castle

For 7 years of my life before I met my boyfriend and before Target even existed,  my constant and most truest companion was my cat. Through countless moves, atrocious breakups,  and questionable choices at the end of the darkest of all tunnels was my little domesticated panther, Abby. And, like most cats,  I'm pretty sure she's judging me.

All the time,  for any reason. Abby is that family member who always knows better than you and isn't afraid to tell you, but loves you all the same. My boyfriend, categorized himself as "not a cat guy" and Abby parked herself in his lap, where she's been every time he's sat down ever since. It wasn't an attempt to persuade him to the side of cats, just a totally and utter apathy to his feelings on the subject altogether. She accepted him enough from the beginning to have made the decision (without me) that he was a member of our family,  and therefore "cat lap" was an affliction you had to deal with. It was for the greater good after all.  Really, it was!

I had brought a few animals into our house in Abby's tenure, including a bearded dragon, a kitten and a host of goldfish that I arrived home with one night after work.

Her condemnation of my animal collecting was immediate and brutal.  Eventually she would come around. The, kitten Cooper who was despised at first became her best friend in the end, even if his face was always too dirty for her and his kitten antics were often over the top. 

But, every time I brought a new animal into the house, I had to prepare for the swift and brutal revenge of Abby. The more substantial the animal,  the worse the punishment.

Surprisingly, I was standing at the front door holding eight week old Target before I realized that Abby's wrath was going to be tantamount to a nuclear explosion bringing home a dog.  Don't get me wrong I'd thought about family dynamics before getting a dog.  I understood the work, respected the differing languages of animals... but... the wrath! I'd forgotten about the wrath!

I turned around and dumped Target unceremoniously into my boyfriend's arms.

"I can't go in there carrying him or Abby's going to just lose it on me!". He laughed and shrugged.  He hadn't fallen victim to Abby's wrath yet,  but he would.  Oh,  he would.

It was late and our apartment was dark.  As we swung the door closed and groped for a light switch,  juggling puppy and puppy supplies, a pair of yellow glinting eyes watched us. 

When the lights flickered on there she was sitting neatly on the kitchen floor. Your mother when you missed curfew,  the serial killer the character in the movie is relieved he didn't run into in the backyard,  and Abby, watching us smuggle a dog into her house.

My boyfriend and I froze and Target started to fidget in his arms. Abby, usually excited and vocal about our arrival home sat still.  Only her golden eyes moved.

She made eye contact with my boyfriend.

Then looked at Target.

Then to my boyfriend again.

Then to me.

Then back at Target

Before settling on my face.

Who was I to think that after 7 years I could fool her into thinking this was anybody's idea but mine? Of course she knew. I could have had him FedEx Express shipped and left on my door step or brought in on a magic flying carpet and that cat would know that I had somehow orchestrated the whole thing.

She was staring right at me. I tried to ignore her, she stared. I started to unpack and working out a puppy plan.  Abby stared. Finally, she looked at Target, hissed and stomped off to her bed on the windowsill.

One ruined pair of pee soaked shoes and one dumped litter box later and The Wrath of Abby was over. It was much less than when I brought Cooper home and she'd peed in my bed and definitely less than when my boyfriend moved in and she shredded my leather couch.

On the one hand I think by the time I got Target she was used to the whole thing and knew that there would always be "cat lap" in our house and that we'd never abandon her.

On the other hand, I think Target was too much energy for her and she was far too old and far too dignified to lower herself to dog level.  Even if that dog was a border collie. 

Eventually,  the personalities evened out and a firm pecking order was established. Who was at the top differed depending on whether or not you were asking us,  or Abby. In the end Abby's connection with Target (and later Comet) would lead me to believe she really was (and still is) the Queen of our Castle