Princess

Princess

I have been meaning to write about Princess for some time, now.  She may be a barn cat, but in her head, she is a Princess.  A more tyrannical cat doesn’t exist.  She bullies the other cats, the dog and most people—but she loves me.  When I am at the barn, if I call her, nine times out of ten—she will come galloping from wherever she is.  The rest of the time, she must be out in the field hunting. 

If I don’t call her, she will often seek me out when she hears my voice.  She follows me about when I feed and is constantly demanding attention.

It’s not that I feed her—plenty of people feed the cats.  Since most of them are very fat, the last thing they need is food.  Princess isn’t fat, but she is a pile of fur—charcoal gray with no tabby markings at all.  Her coat is insanely thick in the winter, keeping her very warm.  Her favorite hobby is hunting the barn swallows.

She is extremely affectionate—until she isn’t.  Out of the blue, she will attack you, and then ask for more petting.  In the winter, she will sit on my lap, and if I dare move, she will start growling.  More than a few times, I took her off my lap—only to have her hiss at me.  Most people will have nothing to do with her, but I think she is a lot of fun—as long as you are very careful.

Princess is quite a character—and definitely a princess.