Bromance or Rivalry? The Continuing Saga of Scooter and Fat Zombie
Yesterday, as I lay soaking in my clawfoot bathtub, Fat Zombie came to investigate. He hopped up on the side of the tub and inspected the water. Just to make sure it was safe for me, he even tasted some of it. Then he tasted more of it. Apparently, bath water is yummy.
I was a little nervous that he would fall in, panic, and sink his claws into me in an effort to get back out. And then Scooter’s face popped up beside the tub, and my “a little nervous” became “a whole lot nervous.” I was certain Scooter was going to reach up and touch Fat Zombie, startling him and causing him to fall. It didn’t happen. Scooter found some laundry to lie on while he waited for Fat Zombie to get done inspecting the bathtub.
Any time I can’t find Fat Zombie, I just have to locate Scooter. Scooter follows Fat Zombie around all day long. I don’t know if he’s trying to be friends or if he’s waiting for a chance to murder the bigger cat.
When I first brought Scooter into my home, Fat Zombie said no. He said it vociferously. He said it with growling. And then he attacked the new cat.
At some point, Scooter fought back — and won. Now Fat Zombie creeps past him. Scooter stalks him through the house. Fat Zombie is more than twice Scooter’s size, so watching him crouch down and slink away from the small cat makes me a little embarrassed for him.
Lately, though, they have seemed to coexist in a friendlier fashion. Sometimes they sniff each other’s faces — and it seems almost affectionate. Fat Zombie may as well give in and be friends with the little guy — since Scooter is everywhere he goes. The other day, I heard scratching sounds in my closet. I opened it up to find Scooter playing with my clothes. And there was Fat Zombie, resting on a spare pillow that resides on a shelf in the closet.
“Ah. Of course Fat Zombie’s here, too,” I said to Scooter.
Then Scooter, who really likes Shakespeare, replied, “My only love sprang from my only hate. Too early seen unknown and known too late.”
“Yes, dear. That’s very nice,” I said.
“Make him leave me alone,” said Fat Zombie.
“You boys have fun. Don’t pull my clothes off the hangers.” And I closed the closet door.
I’m convinced they’ll eventually be the very best of friends.
