Love, Actually

At first, Clyde was not very impressed with Bishrito.

We couldn't really blame her.

 Hello! My name is...

 BISHRITO!

For his first few years of life, Bishrito was a very busy guy. He really wanted to play with Clyde. And (in case you missed it) he has always been the kind of cat who would do anything for attention, especially in front of a camera.

 Hey baby...

Does this couch make my butt look big?

Clyde did not think he was funny.

She didn't want to play his kitten games.

She thought he was a disgrace to the noble name of Cat.

OMG. I don't know him. I do NOT know him.

And of course, poor Bishrito was (and always has been) completely in awe of Clyde.

We thought she might never love him back.

I'll take the worms.

 With a side of worms.

But after a few years, Clyde began to thaw.

At first, they seemed to be just tolerating each other.

Good fences. Good neighbors.

Then, one day, after contractors jack-hammered up our bathroom floor, I found them in our bed, under the comforter, huddled together in terror.

Bish looked terrified.

Clyde looked mortified.

They didn't hang around long enough for me to get photographic proof...

But the cats 

(so to speak) 

were out of the bag. 

Bishrito and Clyde still don't lay around licking each other's ears (at least not out in the open where the humans can see).  

Bish still pesters Clyde sometimes, and she still swats him upside the head.

But they are friends.

They sniff and nuzzle in passing. They look out for each other.

 Maybe that's the best part of love, after all.

An Aside About Clyde

Although I didn't make it obvious in earlier postings, we actually have two cats in residence at The Beet Ranch.  Bishrito and...

Clyde.

In case you can't tell by looking at her, Clyde is a girl. We call her Clydiebunny when she is feeling girlie, but most of the time (and especially when she is in big trouble), we call her Clyde. 

That's Clyde E. Bunny to you, human.

Clyde has a very important job at The Beet Ranch. 

Chief Writing Muse...

Motivator...

And Supreme Guardian of the Writing Spot.

She is always on duty for love and creative support. 

Even when the writing is BAD.

Vigilando!

Clyde has been in my life longer than my husband. She was 10 years old when we got Bishrito and enjoying being an only cat. We were planning to let her stay that way. But, sometimes... counter to the best laid plans...

Kittens happen.

Clyde is an extremely sweet cat. She's the kind of cat that melts in your arms when you pick her up; the kind that has fits of drooling ecstasy when petted. We thought she'd welcome the kitten eventually. We thought she might like a friend. We even thought the kitten might kindle her latent maternal instincts.

Nope.

When we introduced Clyde to little Bishrito, she sniffed his nose. Aw! 

Then, she ROARED. 

I have never heard Clyde make a sound like that before or since.

Bish thought she was going to eat him. 

I thought she was going to eat him. 

We all jumped about two feet and Bish pooped in my lap.

Since that day, Bishrito has had a very healthy respect for Clyde. 

Today, at five years old, Bish outweighs Clyde by about ten pounds. He has big sharp claws and womps on me and Grady at least three times a day.

Clyde turned fifteen this year. She is extremely skinny. She has cataracts. She has arthritis in her hips and paws. She doesn't have her front claws.

Bishrito still defers to her at the food bowl.

I still defer to her at the desk.

Clyde E. Bunny, musing hard.