He May Be Old And Blind

As we were sitting down to dinner the other night, we thought perhaps there was a minor scuffle but couldn’t tell if it was a scuffle or the blind cat running into something. He does that; being blind and all. Then we watched our enormous cat trot into the dining room and sit directly under the table. We could tell something was up. The blind cat came into the room shortly thereafter and started his long forlorn meow. That long forlorn meow means he’s looking for someone–sometimes it is me but that night he was looking for the fatty.

We ratted out the fatty but, of course, blind boy couldn’t find him and fatty wasn’t about to answer with a meow of his own (for years blind boy beat on fatty but then blind boy got blind and fatty got fat and revenge-seeking). They finally left the room and a slight cuffing went on in the hallway.

Last night I woke up as the better-half came to bed and couldn’t get back to sleep so I took my pillow and a book to the sofa. Both cats were sleeping and when I turned on the light, fatty looked disgusted and blind boy just woke up. I laid down on the sofa and tried to contort my legs around where they were. A scuffle ensued because not only was fatty having to share a cushion with the blind boy but he was now sharing the couch with me. It was all too much in his kitty kingdom.

Not one but two fights erupted over who was going to stay on the cushion and I was fairly proud of blind boy because he triumphed and fatty ran off.

Of course, later, blind boy gorged himself at the trough and then puked in the hallway and downstairs. With that puking session, I decided to stay on the sofa for the rest of the night rather than a) navigate back down the hallway without putting a bare foot in something gross or b) turn on the hall light and clean up puke at 3am.