Hierarchy

There is a carefully constructed hierarchy at our house, and it's not exactly what I would have expected.

We have three pets: Nubia the Cat, Mama Schmee the Mama Cat, and Luna the 10-month-old puppy. Mama is Nubia's actual mama. They have been my cats since Nubia was born, four years ago (she is the same age as my sobriety--4!) These cats have been with me through multiple moves, at least two girlfriends, living on someone's porch, emergency evacuation from unsuitable living conditions, a few unsavory flings, and all these years of recovery. Schmee actually lived with me while I was still drinking (though she was not my cat at that time), so she saw me in all my glory. They love me a lot, and Luna is their second dog to contend with.

The previous dog was a former girlfriend's pug/pin, a little bouncy rowdy thing that was about the same size as my cats. Nubia befriended her pretty quickly, but Mama never adjusted. She kept her distance and neither provoked an argument nor partook in any anger arousal.

Now that Stacia and I have had Luna for, oh, five months or so, my cats are finding their bearings with this new addition to the household.

Nubia has always been the shy one. She hides in the strangest places, like in any of my houseplants, which the plants despise and so do I.


With Luna around, Nubia hides under furniture, in closets, in Holly's room, and in places I will never know about because she is so well-hidden. But as time goes by, she is becoming more and more a quiet friend to Luna. I caught them touching noses the other day. I couldn't make a big deal about it, because they are both a little sensitive about the ramifications of their relationship.

When it comes to the hierarchy, though, Luna is one up on Nubia. Luna really wants to play with Nubia, and she will sit in front of her, tail pounding the floor, doing a play bow and basically begging for Nubia's attention. If Nubia runs off, Luna will chase her, as far as she can before Nubia will jump up onto some tall piece of furniture that Luna can't reach. I am sure that Nubia flirts with Luna--she will stroll past slowly, rubbing her tail against Luna's chest, as if to say, "Just try to come after me, Doggie!" And then the chase begins again.

But when it comes down to it, Nubia is a fraidy cat and hides while Luna tries to play with her.

Schmee, on the other hand, is not a flirt. She keeps her distance from Luna at all times, except when she thinks Luna is trying to provoke her. Then Mama will leap toward Luna and chase her as far as she can.

One day, Stacia and I were standing on the second floor landing, between steps going up and going down. Nubia came whooshing past, followed by Luna, followed by Schmee. The trio chased each other all the up to the attic.

That is how it is here, Schmee is the alpha and will chase Luna until Luna begins to whimper.

Not only will Schmee instigate terror, but she will also purposefully steal Luna's bed. Luna knows not to argue, so sometimes I will find the two of them sleeping in the living room, Schmee on the dog bed, and Luna on the floor next to her bed. She is too afraid to kick Schmee off of her territory. In fact, she try the trick she uses to get up onto our bed: if she wants to come up on the bed with us, she has to sit and wait to be invited. She knows this. So sometimes, when Schmee is on her bed, she will sit pretty and wait for Schmee to say, "Hup!" Which, of course, Schmee never says because she is a selfish lady.


Even now, as I write this, all three animals are on the couch with me. But if Luna so much as looks at Schmee, Schmee will growl like you have never heard a cat growl before. So Luna refrains from making eye contact with Schmee, and, as much as possible, she attempts to keep to her own business.

If Luna is coming in from outside, and if Schmee is sitting by the door on the inside, Luna won't come in. She will just sit pretty and wait for Schmee to say, "Go!" like we do when it's time to allow her to come in. But, of course, Schmee never says go, and I think she knows exactly what she is doing.

This is a cat who is certain that her actions will get her what she wants. She is ruthless and she knows exactly how to achieve her goals. Still, I love her. She is fuzzy like a teddy bear and she will curl up in my lap when I am reading, as if to say, "I love you, Liz, even if I don't love anyone else." How can you not feel special when someone like Schmee, a known rebel, a maverick loner, an unapologetic manipulator, loves only you?




And so I let this cat curl up in my lap, and I let her go outside if she wants to. Call me a pushover, but this is a love that is very special. It's like I am her tamer. I am the only one who can reason with her. And I take that as an important responsibility as well as a great privilege.