A Tuna Chicken Sandwich

My life basically consists of following one or other of the cats around and hoping they’ll interact in some way indicative of the deep wellsprings of love within them both. Someone once told me it took them six months for their cats to begin getting along. It’s been several years now and I feel like we’ve plateaued at the barely-tolerating stage. Actually it waffles between barely-tolerating and not-tolerating, but who doesn’t like waffles.

Tuna continues to lurk around his kingdom, sniffing his valiant outdoor knight, crunching away at Chicken’s medical diet, enjoying his own cans of wet food, sniffing all the shoes and coats that are left strewn about the floor, scratching the furniture, begging for food scraps. What a life! Long may he live.

Presumably Chicken will outlive Tuna, although you never know, and I wonder, academically, how Chicken will react to being a solo cat again. How will he handle having just the one food bowl in the tray? Who will sniff his chilly fur when he comes in from his adventures? From whom will he try to maintain a three foot distance at all times and in all directions, that furry cha cha cha of life and love.

Ah, these two. A gift to witness this burgeoning tolerance. A lesson for us all.