Cat Vs Werewolf.

I sometimes forget that Brooklyn’s residents don’t know who is a werewolf on site.

They might know one or two people, through interactions with the pack. But not everyone likes a werewolf, even if they look human on the outside. I got a rude reminder of this recently. About how one of the most common residents of many a neighborhood in New York feels about werewolves in general.

Yes the claws do, quite literally come out in “Cat versus werewolf”.

It’s a territorial thing. It’s an animal thing, it’s a power play.

There are some friends of mine, Nons, who’s houses I can’t visit, merely because they’re cat owners. I found this out the hard way one time when I visited my friend Jace recently. I didn’t know Jace had bought a cat.

Jace has a black and white tabby cat called…wait for it…Pussy Gaga. I kid you not. Seriously, like that’s an homage of sorts.

So pussy gaga struts into the room I’m in with Jace, because cats, even domestic cats, like pussy gaga strut and saunter, like they own you and the world around them. Ever notice how cat’s always have this self righteous air of nobility and entitlement around them? I think they’re born with it.

So pussy gaga saunters into the room, ignores Jace, because that’s how you get attention when you’re a cat, and freezes mid way across the room. Gets down on her haunches, her tail whips up her head down, her hair is standing up to attention when she starts hissing at me.

Pussy Gaga, is staring me down and hissing at me.

So I laugh awkwardly and look at Jace who’s frowning and saying “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she’s normally very good around people. Loves the extra attention.”

Yeah, I know what’s wrong with her.

I’ve set off her hatred mode because she’s smelling through the human in me and sensing lupine yet she’s recognizing a human.

I’m freaking pussy gaga the shit out.

She’s never come across someone like me in the Animal kingdom.

So I say “Oh Maybe she can just smell the dog on me, that I was uh, patting before I came here. Must be on my clothes or something.” Jace looks at me and then at the still in defensive I HATE YOU mode, pussy gaga was in.

Sure, sure, that excuse sounded lame even to me.

Finally Jace goes to pick pussy gaga up, lest the Mexican stand off between werewolf and domestic cat continue, forever. The cat is digging it’s claws into the wooden floor and hissing and making all kinds of noises. Putting up a serious fight for, wanting to fight for her right to be the PET of the house. I’m thinking, fine by me. I’m nobody’s Pet you domestic feline furball. Jace is struggling, yes, against a domestic cat, go figure. Pussy Gaga is in war mode.

What I should have done, was attempted to show pussy gaga that I was no threat to her, that I meant her no harm.

Instead I did what every friend would do, and tried to help Jace by also attempting to pick up the cat from the front, while he tried to pick her up from her stomach and behind. This cat was being stubborn beyond belief. Which meant of course, I had to come down to her level. Stupid, rookie move, really.

You’d think with the hissing noises getting louder I’d have clued in to my fate.

I didn’t even get a hand on pussy gaga before she leapt out of Jace’s hold and struck out at me. but scratching my face I raised my hand to scratch back at her, but she was quick in jumping onto my shoulder and springboarding past me and out of the room quickly. Jace then proceeded to freak out when he saw the blood on my face. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. How bad could my fight with a privileged pussy be?

I checked out the side of my face in the mirror, I literally had claw marks down the side of my face. Fine pink trails, short but obvious on my cheek. It stung but I knew it would heal in day or two and there’d be nothing to show. For a domestic cat, that was a pretty good score in showing me, who’s the boss. I cleaned up my face and walked out of the bathroom. Only to see Pussy Gaga waiting in the hallway for me. But she sat there looking regal and content. Calm as fuck.

The bitch!

So I walked slowly towards her , bent down, not completely low and level with her and growled at her. And not in a human way. She hissed back up at me and ran off quickly.

I straightened up smiling. I pretty much made my excuses to leave straight after that, not because I wanted to avoid pussy gaga, but because my wolf had been stirred up and I wanted to seriously fight, pussy gaga.

I mean full on bitch fight, my werewolf versus her domestic cattiness. Had I gotten my hands on her, I might have been able to answer the age old question about how much room you need to swing a cat in.