Aries = maniac

For whatever reason, it seems people want to see pictures of the new kitty.
Please don't make me turn into the crazy cat lady on the site.

That said, my little bundle of fur is, indeed, an Aries - and proved it on our road trip to Grant's mother's house earlier in the month. Grant's mother has a 6 month old (or so) cat. A 6 month old cat that's really not use to other cats. She's use to having the run of the house all to herself.

Which was more than fine with the kitten, because the kitten couldn't have cared less about her when we got there. She was, to put it mildly, totally unaffected.

Grant's mom's cat's name (did you follow all that?) is Punkin.
No, not puMpkin - I can spell... puNkin...

Punkin was not very happy with Roadkill* when we arrived.
Our cat was too oblivious to notice.

That's when the stalking began.


The stalking wasn't very efficient either.
Our kitten just sat there without a care in the world.
Unmoved.

After a day or two of this, our kitten had had quite enough. Whenever the big cat was out in the room with her, she would.............Growl.

Yeah, you read that correctly...I said, "Growl"...my cat thinks she's a dog...

It took a lot of time and a few close calls in the swiping department for our kitten to get to that point. She did though. She went from indifference to full on offense.

Remember the movie, Tombstone"?

When they're all getting shot at in the swamp and everyone with any sense is hiding down low and trying not to get their face blown off and someone goes, "Where's Wyatt?" and some guy casually says, "Oh, he's over there walking on water." and the scene cuts to Wyatt Earp plowing through waist high water with his shotgun on lock and load and he's advancing on the enemy fire without so much as a leaf of cover...and he couldn't care less... because he's pissed...

That was our cat.

All of my, "Animal - you're going to get your ass kicked" comments didn't mean a thing to her. They fell on deaf ears. That's quite impressive too. I'm pretty creative with the one-liners when it comes to describing, in the most horrid way humanly possible, how whatever stupid thing you're about to do is going to kill you.

My life would be easier if English was her first language.

Instead, she just sat there, perfectly calm, and sized up the enemy that she clearly thought was a moron. I don't think it ever once crossed her mind that the big cat was four times her size.

My daughter is the same exact way. She doesn't know she's small either. For that matter, I don't give it much credit myself either...

Roadkill* just picked a spot, sat and continued to stare.

As you can see above, our little terrorist wound up making the big cat back up and lay down. All by a few growls and some barely audiable hisses.

At one point, the big cat walked by her and the little one caught a glimpse of her tail and LUNGED. I flipped out. I saw the whole thing happening in slow motion and I couldn't do a thing about it except to yell, "ARE YOU INSANE?!"

I scooped her up and we had our first spelling lesson.

L-I-T-T-L-E
T-I-N-Y
...Y-O-U!

Roadkill* has no concept of, "Gee, this action might make me -- dead"
None.

Then Roadkill* played with every single one of Punkin's toys, took over her chair, her climbing post, the loft, her blanket, her cardboard box... basically, the whole house and everything in it, save one room (punkin's only sanctuary).

Great.
My cat is a bully.

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* Name subject to change to whatever I feel like calling her at any God given moment... such names include, but are not limited to: roadkill, prancer, hopper, HEY YOU!, animal, cat, kitten, sparky, baby, angelface, lunatic, maniac, weirdo, death wish, roo, lassie (which I will explain later), bunny (there's no questions at this point why she's going through an identity crisis, is there?), killer, crackhead and dork... (yes, I have called her a dork, I don't want to hear about it - she totally deserved it)...