Having 5 cats means I swallow about 50 pounds of cat hair a year. Or more.

I pull a long piece of fuzz out of my eyes at least 3 times a day.

Every piece of clothing I own looks like mohair to some extent.

And people always ask, “Don’t they fight?” And to this point I have been able to blithely say, “No, actually, they get along great.” But now I have a war story.

The other night, there were the carefully-controlled two cats on the balcony, and other cats inside, with a screen separating them, because this apt. complex has a 2-cat limit. So 2 at a time, like Noah’s Ark, my fuzzies go outside.

Kiki is not the kind of cat you want to fuck with. Ever. She is fully clawed, and fully aware of how to use them. She has been banned from the countertops in our presence because of the incredible accuracy and seemingly indiscriminate use of those claws. Oh, you’re within 5 feet of me? Snarl, hiss, claw! Rinse, repeat. If she sleeps on me at night I am careful to lay very very still because she has done drive-bys if I piss her off, and the last thing I need are railroad-tracks on my face from a percieved insult to Her Highness.

Yaya (a.k.a. Kia, but that’s too confusing (Kiki & Kia), and Yaya sounds so much cuter) is a timid little petite niblet of a kitty, very slim, small, and soft and furry, not too into petting. She will accept strokes when she wants, but hates to be held, and loves to fetch (!) certain feather and mouse toys provided they are not too fuzzy and therefore distasteful. The fetching makes up for the not wanting to be held, because being so precious, I just want to hold her all the time. She’s tinier than Mecca, and has been since I met her, so I think she may not grow any more.

But this adorable exterior masks a little demon growing, because Ya has been known to attack Taylor “viciously” as he sleeps on the back of the couch, sprawling him on the ground in a surprised mewl. Tay is the “silent meow” cat, and to hear anything from him is always a shock. But she doesn’t mean it, not really. Usually.

The conflagraton started casually as any other event. Kiki started snarling a fight with Ya, and they got into it through the screen. I thought there was a strange neighbor cat out on the porch. Well, I opened the door to investigate, and a few vicious swipes later, Mecca had been pinned against the recycle bin, Taylor, Salju, Yaya, everybody had tasted The Wrath of Kiki. So they all fought back.

At the same time.

In a matter of moments I had five posturing, angry, clawing, spitting and hissing cats under the corner end table, banging the torchiere against the wall, rocking the top of the glass table. Have you ever actually heard a cat spit in fury? It’s a scary, snaky sound, and you know that cat means business.

I could even hear Tay’s voice, well, what I thought must be Tay’s voice, because I had never heard it like that before. Everybody was a study in feline pissed-offedness, and in my shock at seeing my usually pacific fuzzies turning into hairy Hydes before my eyes, I stood stock still. Then I snapped out of it, got the couch blanket, and started covering up wriggling furious cats, my 3 first (safer, because once they saw it was me, they would back off).

I literally tossed them out on the porch one by one, and they pressed themselves against the glass in threatening poses, hissing in their tense, angry ways.

Kiki and Ya started chasing each other around the apt, at top speed, because without the other 3 under the table, Kiki’d had an out. Slamming against the wall time after time I was really worried someone would get hurt, so I chased after them for a minute, but that was futile as these two were the ones who have the claws, and I narrowly escaped damaging myself. Smart.

Finally there was a pause in the hallway when I was able to squirt-bottle them in different directions, and slam Kiki into the bedroom, Ya into the bathroom, and breathe a sigh, my 3 still outside, looking shell-shocked.

0 vet bills later, I hope never to see that again, but like any war story, I will never forget it. If there is any threatening going on between our cats, I will not open the door. That was mistake #1. After that, I think I handled it well, because everybody still has the use of all their body parts. And I wish I could tell the story a little better, blow-by-blow like a sportscaster would, but you’d need a slo-play digital video of the fight to see anything that happened in play-by-play detail.

And Tony’s home, and I miss him after a whole week of few hours together, so I am going to go to Wal-Mart in a thunderstorm. Because he’s going.

Oh, and below; Salju | Ya cleaning Tay (2) | Kiki | Kiki attacking my arm | Kiki being cute when she isn’t in a “mood” | Ya and Tay again | Kiki zai pei-pei ta baba | Kiki licking her lips perilously close to my leg. See, I egg her on sometimes, I know, it’s not all her…