Kiki the Terrible

And her no-good, awful mood swings. She has taken to beating the crap out of poor Phoebe, my little rescued feral kitten. Phoebe, I think, isn't yet big enough to do Kiki much damage, but Phoebe did get her cornea scratched by Kiki last week, necessitating a trip to the vet and wrestling with Phoebe twice a day to apply eye drops. So I've gone back to Phoebe being in her own room (my bedroom, as it turns out), with her food and water and litter box in my bathroom to keep her separate from Kiki. Kiki has not been like this with the other cats; certainly not Olivia, who arrived as a kitten about the same age as Phoebe. Maybe Kiki is just through putting up with kittens and their nonsense. I don't know. I've about had it with Kiki though. Most of the day, she hides in the "tower" (a weird cubbyhole in the house that only she and Olivia can access), and otherwise just comes out to eat or torture Phoebe. Argh. Phoebe remains sweet as can be through all of this, surprisingly. I am almost ready to put Kiki on kitty Prozac.