When Jealousy Reigns

Lillie, our homegrown green-eyed monster...

How do you turn a cat - manja, accomodating and somewhat timid, scurrying helter-skelter into any hideyhole in the presence of strangers - into a ferocious, snarling feline overnight? Easy; just bring home another, even more timid, cat and the battle lines are drawn.

Peace at home was shattered for five days when 10 month-old Lillie, usually gentle if a little wary of unfamiliar faces, went into an attack mode to defend her territory from an unsuspecting 'intruder'. And to think that the latter was meant to be her playmate.

Having fostered no less than 100 cats thus far (25 all at once in the 1990s, living peacefully together too), I thought it would be good to get Lillie a friend. I didn't want her to acquire the 'only-child' syndrome; intolerant and selfish, and above all, demanding.

So much for my wish. Without me realising it, Lillie was already all of the above, and then some. Despite her humble beginnings (SPCA alumnus), our now-rotund Lillie, by my reckoning, had turned into a prissy snob.

She was obviously quite happy with her placid condo lifestyle, eating premium kibbles, relieving herself in a tubful of fragrant, clump-free litter, not to mention fortnightly trips to Dr Christine's for a foamy bath and flea shots.

Thus sweet Milo was Lillie's nightmare came true. Four-month old Milo, a pretty little thing in greyish-white fur (being half-Siamese and all) popped into our lives last week, courtesy of Nawwar's vet friend, the ever-smiling, soft-spoken Dr Aina.

A dedicated cat lover herself, Dr Aina runs a makeshift rescue transit centre at her home. Always on the lookout for suitable 'parents' to farm out her many temporary boarders, she heard of our quest for another cat to be Lillie's companion, and brought to us Milo.

Lillie's sweet disposition changed instantaneously upon seeing Milo. She hissed and growled incessantly, physically taking potshots at the already nervous and jumpy kitten. On one occasion, Milo hopped onto the windowsill in panic and on another, got herself cornered at the balcony trying to escape a fury-laden, manic Lillie.

I was so afraid she would sail into open space and perish from a 10-storey fall that I decided to have her temporarily caged for her own safety. It was as though she knew the odds, that each time I opened the cage door, she would willingly step in.

Lillie, now irate, would swing her paws through the bars. She would also purposely push her paws inside and scoop out Milo's food, messing the floor. Each time I took Milo out of the cage, she would rush in and finish Milo's food, pointedly ignoring her own in the kitchen.

To ensure Milo's safety, I had to place the cage in my study and close the door each time I let Milo out to roam. I could sense the poor kitten's nervousness, especially as Lillie could be heard pacing the floor outside, growling, waiting to sneak in should the door opened.

Milo was also nursing a surgery wound; she was spayed just a day before coming to us. I believe that was another reason why she wasn't actively fighting back. The soreness was still there and she was feeling some pain.

On the couple of occasions that we buka puasa outside, I would let Milo out, making sure both the study door and the windows were secured before leaving. Milo would then climb onto one of the open shelves and stay perched until I returned.

All these while, Lillie's frustration must have accumulated steadily. She must have been very annoyed at not being able to land a scratch or two on Milo. Dr Aina had asked for a one-week grace period; if the two still couldn't click after a week, she would take Milo back.

In the meantime, I had grown to love the nervous bundle. We had bonded well and she would readily jump into my arms. Strangely enough, Milo never meowed. Instead, she made tiny squeaky noises like those usually made by mice.

Opportunity presented itself to Lillie on Friday evening just after the news. It was an oversight on my part, with disastrous result. I forgot to close the study door and went about doing housework, and the next thing we heard was a mighty scuffle followed by howlings in the study.

I rushed in, only to see poor Milo all bloodied, her sutures ripped, her wound gaping. I quickly grabbed her and hugged her close, her blood seeping onto my caftan. By this time Lillie had slunked under my bed, probably satisfied to have caused some damage to the hapless kitten.

A horrified, tearful Nawwar placed a call to Dr Aina who turned up 30 minutes later. A quick check confirmed that the wound had to be restitched. Poor, poor Milo. We had to bid her adieu.

It's back to peace and quiet on the homefront. Lillie's reverted to her old self but I shed a silent tear for a sweet kitten that got mauled whilst under my care....