Do As I Say, Or There'll Be A Sh*t Kickin'!

We'd been looking for a second cat to add to the family for several months when an ad popped up on Kijiji, a local buy-and-sell site. A nearby family had a 15-week-old kitten to give away.

The picture of the tiny grey and white little girl melted my heart. I contacted them and picked her up immediately. She's a Bengal-Tabby mix, delicate and just about the most beautiful little kitty I've ever laid eyes on.

I brought her home and my husband's face told the tale. He fell head over heels in love with her. His face looked like the love emoji, round, smiling and with hearts where his eyes should have been.

We named her Gypsy and she soon made herself at home. Her first order of business was to help herself to some food from her new brother's dish. She then set to work letting him know exactly who was in charge.

It was her. Despite Baby being 2 years older and at least 8 pounds larger than her, Gypsy asserted and maintained her dominance.

That was our first clue as to Gypsy's personality. But it wasn't until about a year later that the true level of her domineering personality became evident.

It was an early October morning. I woke up late, around 7:15 am and a little cranky, having not slept well the night before. Rather than cleaning the litter boxes and feeding the cats right away, I opted to make myself some coffee.

I then decided to leisurely drink my coffee.

I sat, cup in hand as the cats meowed and rubbed up against my legs. It was past their usual feeding time of 7:00 am. When that didn't produce the desired result, they stared at me. Both of them. A cold, insistent, unwavering type of stare.

Gypsy's amber eyes almost blazed through me as she tried to communicate that she'd had just about enough of my dilly-dallying.

I continued to drink my coffee.

She abruptly turned her tiny little head, then her body and went to her bowl. She flipped it over. And over. And over. Loudly.

By this time, I was honesty amused.

The sound of metal on my hardwood floors stopped. Everything was quiet. I poured myself a second cup of brown lifeblood, pretty darn pleased with myself for showing my superiority over the felines.

I heard scratching coming from the washroom. I thought nothing of it. Gypsy had used her litter box.

I finished my coffee, fed the cats and proceeded to clean the litter boxes.

That's when I saw it - my bathroom floor completely covered in litter and poop! Gypsy hadn't used her box; she just kicked every single turd out of it in protest. I was not amused.

I didn't think anything more about it as the day went on. I carried on with my usual routine, working, doing household chores and catching up on emails. And then decided to run some errands.

I grabbed my reusable bags and set them beside the front door as I got ready. I then removed Gypsy from one of the bags before I left. She never liked me going out and her way to prevent it was to get inside a bag. It was cute.

She gave me a disapproving meow as I sat her on the floor and reassured her that mommy loved her and would be back soon. And, true to my promise, I was.

Guess what I came home to? A clean, orderly home with sweet, sleeping cats? No. A bathroom floor full, yet again of litter and turds. And guess who was sitting proudly near the door looking at me with her tiny head cocked to the side? You guessed it - Gypsy!

I sensed a pattern. I was NOT amused. This adorable, innocent-looking kitty was punishing me. She was actually punishing me!

The writing on the wall was crystal clear. Well, in this case, the writing on my bathroom floor was crystal clear, "Get outta line, displease me in any way, and you're in for a sh*t kickin'!"

And she's been true to her word. Late on feeding? Sh*t kickin'. Leave the house without Gypsy's express approval? Sh*t kickin'! No treats on demand? You guessed it, sh*t kickin'!

I'd be lying if I said I didn't move a little quicker where she's concerned now. I know what's in store for me if I get out of line.

Gypsy doesn't wait for food or treats. She gets extra cuddles before I go out. Don't worry, she lets me know when I'm dismissed.

She rules this house with an iron paw and we wouldn't have it any other way.