The trouble with Artie

Artie lives in the house on the corner. He's ginger too, but long-haired. What's worse is that he is bigger than me. This means that should he and I find ourselves facing an unfortunate altercation, guess who comes off best? I try time and again to get Them to feed me larger helpings so that I can catch up with Artie. But They will not be told. They say I will get fat if I eat more. Wretched humans. They don't understand anything. The fact is that for a cat, size matters. It's the law of the jungle. People around here distinguish us from one another by calling me the 'little' ginger cat. Hunh.

To compound matters, Artie was here first. I hear on the catvine that before I arrived, They were best mates with Mr Ginger Bruiser, King Arthur, and he used to go into the house and keep them company. Then I turned up. Artie was duly banished and sent home to no.17. He's neither forgotten nor forgiven this insult. I've done nothing, but he blames me.

And so I live opposite a creature who thinks I'm on his patch and can beat me up whenever he can be bothered to come out of his house. Most of the time I cut my losses and try to keep clear of him, but one can't be a shrinking violet (well, ginger) forever. The other day I decided I'd had enough. I tried to teach him a lesson. When it all went wrong, I used my biggest asset - my loud voice, which I've worked on so that it can be heard through the violin and piano being played together - and They kindly came charging out to break it up. Now I'm nursing a torn ear. But I will show him who's boss, one day.