ladycaviar

Threesomes are difficult to manage. Oh yeah, two chicks will cooperate, sure, but two guys always end up jealous and competing. Don’t ask me how I know that. Let’s just politely assume I read that somewhere and move on.

The Man and MrZ are no exceptions. MrZ does not like having to share His Woman, and when he loses, he sulks around the house loudly, kicking the furniture. I think that’s hilarious, the other two do not. (Strangely, Z worshipped thorae, and didn’t mind him in the bed. In fact, when thorae was around, MrZ didn’t care if I existed or not. I do not know what that means. But boy, does he view The Man as competition).

When we sleep at night, The Man sleeps on one side of me, and MrZ curls up possessively on the other side right up in the hollow of my neck, like a kitten. He’s very fussy about everybody in the bed staying still; he does not like the Bed Being Jiggled, and he will complain about it loudly. He also doesn’t really like being petted, he wants The Hand to lay Next To Him and Stay Still and Warm. Sometimes, I’ll pet him because that’s a natural human thing to do, and when he’s had enough, he’ll firmly stamp my hand down with a hind leg (“I think I’ll call him Stampy![1]”) to let me know he’s done with that crap, thank you very much. Normally, I just chuckle and comply, but sometimes I feel like messing with him.

The other night, MrZ had just stamped on my hand when I was possessed of the desire to see if he would act like a Mighty Hunter if I wiggled my hand a little bit, like a mouse or something. Keep in mind that not only does The Z not hunt as a general rule, nor ever play with cat toys, he doesn’t bother to groom himself; preferring to demand that I, His Woman, brush and comb him, clip his nails, clean his feet, and pick little crumbs out of his whiskers. So I imitated a small hand mammal under his foot. He did not turn into the Mighty Hunter. He gave me a look of irritated disgust, drew Himself up to his full Siamesey height, and blew his nose on me.

I started giggling. So much for The Hunter. I don’t know what I expected, but The Emperor wished to make it clear to me that The Emperor doesn’t Hunt. And he wasn’t happy about me jiggling the bed with my laughing. Neither was The Man, who apparently I woke up with my laughter. “What?” Every time I tried to explain, I ended up laughing harder. MrZ now stamped on me harder with both hind feet and laid his entire and rather large furry body heavily on my nose and mouth, attempting to silence the annoying noise. That, of course, only made me laugh harder, and definitely more incoherent.

The Man was incredibly annoyed at this point. “What? I’m feeling left out. What’s so damn funny over there?” which of course only made me more helpless with laughter. Oh my God, I think I hurt something, and I couldn’t stop. All I could do was laugh my ass off, while both of them fumed at me, no matter how many times I made futile attempts to say something. MrZ kept flumphing himself harder onto my face to make me shut up, the only bonus to which was that at least he soaked up the tears from laughing so hard.

When at last I had recovered enough to be intelligible, I told The Man what had happened. He was still pissed, didn’t get it, and said “I guess you had to be there.” Good God, man, you’re jealous of the cat. So I demonstrated by saying, “It’s like he said, ‘here, let me help you with your cough,’” and I stuffed a pillow firmly over his face, “‘no, no, struggling will only make you cough worse, just relax, your coughing will be over soon…’”

“Ok, very funny.”

Meanwhile, MrZ got pissed that he had lost His Woman again and started yelling as only a Siamese of his caliber can, stomping on our heads across the bed to go pout on the couch.

Seriously, stick to the chick threesomes.

[1] Bart Simpson, “Bart Gets An Elephant”