It seems crowded around here lately and I've been feeling a little treed. It's like the balance of power has shifted in my house. It happened gradually and wasn't a hostile take-over, like when my in-laws swoop in. And swoop in they do, like a pair of nasty old buzzards. 
The voracious Buzzards circle and and hover. Weekends are their favorite feeding times. And they would feed every blasted weekend, if they had their way. Thanks to my in-laws, I've developed a deeper empathy for roadkill. When these old Buzzards alight in my kitchen, the atmosphere quickly becomes toxic. The mother-in-law's razor tongue flaps much faster than her leathery old wings. Insults and criticisms fly faster than dandelion fluff on a windy day. It only takes the old she- buzzard five minutes to make my head throb. She honks her own horn that loud. A visit from the buzzards, oops! I mean in-laws, is a perfect example of a hostile take-over. I am aware of what the Buzzards are doing and I fight it. They will not win.
A different take-over technique was used by a group of furry, funny, big eyed creatures. Their methods were so subtle, it was over before I even noticed. Maybe it was because their intentions were different than the selfish motives that drive the Buzzards. The little creatures, not so little anymore, took over my life for my own good. Dumb humans must be looked after. The perfect way to look after a human is to make her a servant.
Cinderella, or in my case, Humanella, feed us. Humanella, brush us. Humanella, play with us. Humanella, clean our litter boxes. Of course, it's a two way street. My feline masters generously help me out with these chores and many others. They even decorate my clothing with their own fur and decide how long I will sleep.
Motive makes all the difference in a take-over. My parents were crazy dog men and had a couple of dogs. Because the dogs were big and there was grass and even those tree-thingys(!) growing around the house, my "hair dresser" mother-in-law, labeled me a "farm person". Apparently, in Buzzard world, hair dressers have a higher place in society than mere "farm people". The old battle-axe has been breathing rancid buzzard breath down my neck and trying to put me in my lowly place ever since. Her methods and message do not feel friendly. And now I've delivered a really humiliating blow to the Buzzards' imaginary prestige. Instead of a couple pedigreed yappy dogs, old MacDonald got herself some cats!
In a friendly take-over, the motives are pure and beneficial to all parties. Why, just this morning, Leo jumped up on the table and stuck his head in my cereal bowl. Obviously, the dear boy wanted to taste my food to make sure it was safe for me! Angie only howls at me when I go near the stove because she's concerned for my safety. A couple of the others worry that the houseplants will get scraggly and dry. These creatures look after me out of love and not concern for social standing.
Sorry, Buzzards. If you don't like my cats, go get yourself a yappy dog and stick it where the sun doesn't shine. Or even better, stay away, because Humanella is having a ball with her furry friends.!
And I shall go to the ball, even if my gown is covered with cat hair.
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