The War of Apartment 31

My kitten and I are at war.

Little does she know, I will win.

We have disagreements about many things. I think my little Christmas tree looks great sitting on top of my television. She thinks it looks better in a heap on the floor next to the television. She had something against my elephant clock that was a gift from some friends in Krichim, so I will have to take that to Toschko tomorrow for some gluing. She thinks my food is her food, and I think her food is her food. My body has become a scratching post, an object to hunt, a jungle-gym and a bed (though I like the last part). My drying clothes have become pawns in our struggle -- she stares at me defiantly as she yanks a sock down with her claw. "That's right," she says to me, "I'm pulling this sock DOWN unless you get off your school-worn ass and make me stop."

But as I mentioned before, I will win. She hates punishment (i.e. flicking her with water or carrying her by the neck like her mama would), so hopefully it will eventually sink in...If it doesn't, I will be living with a being that has a teenage mentality and real claws...Interesno.