• 
• 

Published on October 13, 2007

 My readers, apparently, have the same problem - cats attacking cats.

Like any animal (dogs as well), a cat tends to go after the weakest in the group. It's a territorial mentality, I think, not a lack of compassion. Yoyo doesn't care that Susu is suffering from arthritis, the result of an early injury to a hind leg.

Nor does he care that her best friend Petra passed away just before he joined the household, and Susu continues to seek solitude.

As an aggressive (although neutered) young boy, he seems to feel that she is fair game. At first, I thought he was trying to initiate play-fighting with her. With one-eyed Angel, he starts grooming her ears, growing rougher and rougher until he jumps on her. Although she loves the grooming, the pouncing doesn't make her happy, especially when she ends up locked against him in a wrestler's roll.

Hissing and screaming are also involved, until Angel manages to remove herself from his clutches.

With Susu, though, he moves towards her as if he wants to groom her. She hisses. He lowers his head, begins moaning and brushing out his tail. Then he pounces, but his unsheathed claws are ready to inflict injury. He's thinking mayhem and dominance. She's thinking he should leave her alone.

His attacks against Susu are not new. He started when we were still in the flat. In the townhouse, he's stepped up his assaults. He does not allow her on the first floor anymore. He's been trying to drive her out of the second-floor bedroom too, but so far unsuccessfully.

The intensity and frequency of his attacks have increased, but other changes have occurred as well. Susu has learned to let out a sharp scream the minute he approaches. The screams don't stop him, but they bring me upstairs.

Growling and all brushed-out, Yoyo looks terrifying, but I can always pull him off and send him on his way. Sometimes I just have to speak his name sharply, and he moves away, as in "Oh, all right."

Just recently, he's started obeying another sound. When he attacks Susu, I let out a sharp hiss, the sound a mother cat makes when protecting her young, and he immediately backs off.

I have also learned when he's most likely to attack Susu. Let breakfast be a little bit late, let the rain start falling, let anything occur that puts him out of sorts, and he goes after the senior cat. Apparently he's the only cat in his world.

When I pull him off Susu, he's disgruntled for a little while. In his little world, he feels he has every right to attack anyone he pleases. Then his natural charm re-asserts itself. He wraps himself around my legs, purring softly. He claims my lap. He kneads my neck. He grooms my chin.

"Tell me you love me," I think he says.

Laurie rosenthal  

The Nation

Questions about your pets?

Fax (02) 751 4446 or e-mail laurie@nationgroup.com.