Possession’s fine, but armed occupation’s still better

Possession, they say, is nine-tenths of the law.

That’s always seemed to be our cat Misty’s philosophy. After all, he’s the oldest of the three legitimate animal inhabitants of our household (I’m not including the various infuriating insects, against whom the never-ending war will start up again in the next few weeks, as the temperatures continue climbing). 

Misty’s been here longer than any of them. It’s true that there was a dog called Janka when he turned up, smelly, large (compared to the two toy poodles in the household today) and lovable, but she’s long since disappeared to that place where animals go when they don’t come back. The poodles, first Luci and later Toffee, black and orange respectively, turned up since. Making them interlopers.

One of the consequences of their being johnny-come-latelies (or jilly-come-latelys, I suppose, since they’re both female) is that they have to settle for a lower place in the pecking order than Misty’s. He gets first dibs on things.

Toffee and Misty generally get on just fine

This rightful and legitimate arrangement of things is reinforced by the fact that Misty is significantly bigger than the dogs. Pretty close to twice Toffee’s weight, for instance. They get on just fine most of the time – best of friends, even – but occasionally, Toffee gets just a tad aggressive. If Misty tries to jump up on the couch, for instance, and claim his due, a place on a convenient lap, Toffee has a tiresome habit of barking and even moving aggressively against him. Just jealousy, we know, but it can be irritating and as a general rule Misty, who doesn’t go looking for fights, backs off, and lets her get away with her insufferable behaviour.

That pursuit of the less aggressive way has often cost Misty dearly. For instance, we’ve more than once found Toffee hoovering up the last few crumbs of some particularly desirable food from Misty’s bowl, having driven him away and left him watching plaintively as she ingests at speed what was meant for him. That’s despite her being such a titch compared to him.

Sometimes, though, Misty’s patience cracks. Then he rounds on the impudent little tyke, and quickly reduces her to quivering subservience. 

Sometimes Misty just has to take action

And at other times he just claims for himself what is rightly his. Even if, strictly speaking, it really isn’t.

Danielle bought the dogs rather a comfortable cushion they could lie on indoors, if they get tired of occupying the couch they usually like to sprawl on, whether we’re there or not. That cushion has been a major success. The dogs take great pleasure from lying on it.

When they can, that is. Because Misty has decided that it is indeed a fine thing to lie down on, and he sees no reason why it shouldn’t be him who lies on it. He moves in, and they stay out.

Misty in occupation on the dogs’ cushion

It’s probably not correct to say that for Misty possession is nine-tenths of the law. Occupation, he seems to feel, is 100%. Particularly when backed by armed force. He has some fine teeth and claws, as well as a considerable weight advantage, to protect his claim.

Danielle decided that this wouldn’t do. If Misty wanted the dogs’ cushion, she’d just go out and buy another. A double cushion. With space for both dogs, so Misty could have the original cushion all to himself.

A fine plan. I expect you don’t really need me to tell you that it didn’t work. “A double cushion?” Misty said to himself, “that’s twice as good as a single one, twice as attractive to a cat who understands what having a real rest means.”

The humans foiled!
Misty in occupation of the new cushion

So he’s taken over the new cushion just like he previously took over the old one.

We’ve had to take further steps. We took advantage of the weather which is warming up nicely, out here in Spain. It’s reached the point where, during the day, it’s warmer outside than in, so leaving the doors open warms the house up rather than cooling it down. This means that we’re pretty much back to where we were last year, when Misty preferred spending the night out of doors rather than in the house.

So we’ve found the solution.

We’ve built him a doghouse in the garden.

Since he kept nicking the dogs’ cushions, we thought, let’s give him a dog kennel to enjoy the balmy nights in. He seems to like it: he keeps rubbing himself up against the entrance, clearly marking it as his. Which is a relief.

Misty’s new palace
Deemed acceptable by the owner, it seems

This way, the dogs might get a chance to use their cushions. Not that they seem all that bothered, however. Given the choice, they apparently prefer lying on the couch.

Ah, well. At least we tried. It’s the dogs’ reaction that’s trying.