We Are Not Amused

This is my cat. She is not on drugs, though she might benefit from some chemical modification. We get along very well. She only speaks English and North American Cat (with a Siamese accent, though she denies it) and refuses to expand her linguistic horizons. In her words, “What: a talking cat isn’t enough?”

She’s right of course. I should be more considerate.

On the other hand, a talking cat is not all it might be cracked up to. (danglin . . .malformed . . . danglin . . . on purpose, hence, not an error or rather is intentional) (so is the preceding sentence fragment)(please read as Greek Chorus)(moving on . . .)
I have added another feline domesticus. Female. Black. Extremely furry, like a Japanese porn star, is the thought that first entered my cognitive tableau. The “new” cat is larger than the “old” cat and has more “street smarts.” This means she eats more, especially the “old” cat’s food. To this, and to the very existence of the interloper, the “old” cat takes great offense. In her words,”We are not amused.”

I’ve tried to help them smooth over their differences, but to no avail. Though the “new” cat seeks a peaceable co-existence, the “old” cat’s persistent militancy and defensive posture defies resolution. What’s worse is, just as one seems to see some progress, the whole thing backslides into act and reaction and we’re right back where we started – only worse, now, since one side had beat the crap out of the other and then, retreated with requisite guilt and recrimination and downright hatred.

As it’s going now, it seems fairly hopeless, but I won’t stop trying. It’s not like they can go anywhere. Oh, and did I mention, the “old” cat has no front claws. So, she can’t go elsewhere or defend herself, even if it’s in a fight she’s started. Such fights are a silly pantomime of spits, swats and growls. She knows there’s only so far she can go before I step in and censure her. I feel bad for her, but she needs to find a way to get along. Her survival depends on it.

This story seems to have an analogue outside the world of domestic life and fightin’ felines. Can you guess what it is?

Ta ta.