It has been a difficult week for my sis-in-law's cat, Lily. I keep accidentally passing through her 5 feet bubble of personal space, not noticing her sitting underneath the fern plant, walking by her too quickly, and wearing white socks in her presence (she really hates those white socks). All of my horrible actions have elicited hisses, swats, and groans from her. She's even chased me once. (It's a little unnerving to be on the receiving end of a cat playing offense--ah!)
I'm not Lily's only archnemesis. She also hates a neighborhood cat named Milly (if you grew up in the 80s saying those two names close together might make you think of a certain band, now disgraced).
Lily's feud with Milly wakes everyone up most mornings around 6 am. The cats have settled into a happy routine of positive mutual disdain. Lily's hisses, growls, and high-pitched squeals usually give us notice that Milly has come to the glass door again to make faces at her.
The noise is so loud and the fight sounds so vicious that we might be tempted to think the glass door came down. But it hasn't. No Lily's fight is all "sound and fury, signifying nothing".
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