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I know this latest cat-baloo was all about jealousy. Absolutely! For weeks now, Rose has  been moaning around here about her lack of exposure in these blogs. I explained to her that she, princess that she is, really isn’t The Beginning, The End, and Everything-in-Between of Annie’s Odyssey. She replied by shaking another pound of fur onto the couch. I tried to reason with her that really, at this point, it was important that my blog concentrate on getting the word out about The Book, about Mediterranean Journey. Since she wasn’t even in that book she just walked away — and plotted.

It was Tuesday night. Everything seemed normal to me. Rose was on the back of the couch, stomach to the sky, pretending to sleep. Nick was wherever Nick goes when I don’t know where he is. It didn’t worry me since he is his own Houdini when it comes to hiding. At 10 p.m., as always, I locked the terrace doors and took my body upstairs to bed. I blame the whole incident on Rose. She could of told me that Nick was MIA. But, no, she just curled her little self up on the pillow next to me and purred her little way to sleep. Next morning, no Nick! I called and called, not that that ever works. You would think

The guilty one in her youth! Rose was the boss even back then.

The guilty one in her youth! Rose was the boss even back then.

that after nine years these cats would know their names and come when beckoned, but not these guys. Even the old clanking of the fork on the plate announcing breakfast did not produce a Nick. I was perplexed. Rose was still silent. I’m sure she was thinking that if he didn’t show up, there’d be doubles for her. Fat chance!

It wasn’t until I pulled up the blinds and opened the patio door that I discovered my crime — I had locked Nick out on the porch for the Entire Night. Like lightening, Nick slid into the house, staying as far away from me as he possibly could while still getting to the litter box upstairs and, afterwards, to his food in the kitchen. (I did think he had his priorities straight.) No amount of coddling, sweet words or entreaties could get him within three feet of me — even Temptations weren’t enough to warrant my forgiveness. I told him I didn’t do it on purpose. Like that excuse will fly with cats — it never did when I used to say it to my mother after I had done some dastardly deed to one of my siblings. Nick just disappeared upstairs to whatever hiding place he has found this week.

Rose went into action. She strategically positioned herself between Nick’s hiding place — she knew where he was — and the stairs going down to the food. Every time he tried to leave, she’d puff up her tail and hiss and sizzle daring him to cross her path. It was just plain mean and I’d tell her so with stern words and a pointed finger. This was exactly what she wanted. If I was letting him back in the house, then she was going to make me pay. She did this before after Nick’s one-night stand at the vet. As soon as I opened the carrier and let him out, she was a wild banshee cat, screaming and hissing and swatting claws-out paws towards him. She created pure cat-hell in this house and I fell right into her plot. Not this time, Nick and I just ignored her after her initial Hiss. A Diva can’t be a Diva without an audience.

Still, it took three long days for her to declare defeat and allow Nick to get back up on the couch and me to walk by her without getting a hiss-full of discontent. But, you know, she did get what she wanted after all. Here she is — the Star of this week’s blog.

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