Politics and power-play; a strong element in the lives of feline sweetie-pies.
Nine days ago, when the mogs came home, one of the first things I reported online was that I felt sorry for Felix. This was because he is a slow eater, and when I first served them a meal, the other two finished very quickly than stared at him until he was a nervous wreck, started to gobble (and then threw up in the night.) Poor baby.
No wonder, I thought, he’s retreated to the dining room and doesn’t mix.
Mystic at that point was dominant lap-cat, with Fluff in second place, although these two will actually both cuddle me at once now and then.
The revolution came after a few days. I had started to feed Felix behind the closed door of the dining-room, so that he could eat at his own pace. (In the kitchen, Fluff and Mystic pigged away and whoever finished first went and stared at the other one.)
I reported to friends and family that Felix’s confidence was growing with a proper diet, and wasn’t that nice?
Now here we are with Felix suddenly dominant and a bit of a bully (he’s only little, but so are they all.)
For the last three days, after-breakfast cuddle has been Felix (lap), Mystic (in doughnut next to me on sofa), Fluff (on adjacent chair.)
The other two are suddenly accepting that they must take second-place in the lap-stakes. Poor Fluff! Poor Mystic.
Going out is going to have a lot hanging on it judging by the story so far.