“Stronza”

Yesterday Bambi called Nuvola “stronza.”

Not nice.

If Nuvola were a person and not my Dainty Princess, she would have taken immediate exception to the insult, which roughly translates as “shithead.”

Many cats have lost their temper with Bambi. The surprise is that Bambi lost her temper with a cat. She has never been anything but gentle and loving with all my creatures, never raising her voice and always exercising special patience that makes therapy fairly easy.

Nuvola is a petite darling, 10 years old. She is mostly white but has a tiger striped tail and markings on her legs and nose and tiger markings on her head that resemble a crown. She has natural “liner” around her eyes and, in her prime, was a plumpish butterball, soft and smooth to the touch. When I put special treats out for the cats, she will always reach her paw in to take her morsels and nibble off the floor instead of competing with the dominant personalities jostling to eat straight from the plate.

Nuvola suffers from chronic colitis, and she has reached a point where her malnutrition requires additional therapy. Along with a high protein diet, weekly vitamin B supplement and an increased dose of prednisone, she is supposed to have fluid therapy for 7-10 days. Some days I have been able to catch her and put her in the bathroom until Bambi arrives, but since Bambi is punctual Roman-style, I hate to keep Nuvola shut in the carrier for any length of time.

Sometimes Nuvola hides behind the door inside the living room cabinet when Bambi arrives. Seated on the floor, Bambi is usually able to give her the therapy there. Not yesterday. Yesterday, Nuvola scratched Bambi and, after insulting her and flinging the fluid-filled syringe across the room, Bambi refused to waste any more of her time on my Dainty Princess.

All the while, Cubby Duccio sat in the dry bathtub behind the shower curtain with the bathroom door wide open waiting for his therapy.

So, what made Bambi snap? A combination of fatigue and stress? Except for our mutual passion for cats, we do not confide in each other, so I hope her indisposition is temporary.

Today Bambi made up with Nuvola.

I had Nuvola ready in her carrier in the bathroom when Bambi arrived. Bambi spent a minute or two stroking her head and talking softly to her before she injected the fluid. Then she called Nuvola “patatina” (“little potato”), in Rome a humble term of endearment.

Italian can be such a beautiful language.