(Okay, let me put that a different way.)
Two cats have SWMBO and I.
As keepers.
As feeders.
As affectionate petters.
These two cats have been together since each of them were foundling kittens.
You'd think they would love each other.
And I think they do.
But Blackwell, the male, the younger of the two, lies in wait for Muggles, the female, the older but more fragile of the two, to go anywhere.
To eat.
To defecate.
And then he chases her back to her spot on the M's bed.
She (SWMBO) yells at him.
To no effect.
I say "he just wants to play."
To even less effect.
But other times of the day, they are inches apart, sleeping, the best of friends.
Who can figure out cats?
