Maxine H. Simon
You can't let others push you around. You've got to stand your ground and protect your own property. When I first moved here this territory was mine: down to the creek, and all along it, across the street to the back of the Walter's yard and way down to the Anthony's at the other end of the street, even the area around the businesses at the corner. It was a good piece of property and I enjoyed it. The land varied with thickets of bush, expanses of grass, tall trees and of course the creek itself. In the summer fragrant and colorful flowers abounded and one or two vegetable gardens made their appearance. There were birds and bugs of all kinds, the usual rodents and a flock of ducks on the creek. I was the queen, you might say, wandering to my hearts content, stopping to rest wherever I felt like it, undisturbed. No one disputed my reign.
Rumblings of trouble began when he moved into the house opposite ours. He was an elderly gentleman, kind of timid, only appearing outside from time to time, but still a great intrusion on my empire. It was the idea of my not being the one and only here. The first stand off we had was on his side of the street. I hunched over about three yards away from him, watching his every move, the hair on my neck bristling and standing up. He was wary too, moving cautiously, his eyes becoming huge. The tension grew. His grey and white hair seemed electric, filling out his slim body.
It came to nothing in the end, both of us backing down with only a few unkind words. We met again once or twice on my side of the street, but the tension wasn't as great as before. I got used to seeing him on his walks every now and then. Not often, you know so I guess it was OK for him to be there. He was harmless anyway. Now when he's outside we ignore each other. He stays on his side and I on mine.
The real trouble came when she moved in next door. A real tramp. They call her "Sweetheart." Imagine! And such a mass of brown and black hair, I wonder who "does" it. She's out at night alot. We had some very nasty words and almost came to blows. She was walking in such a slinky manner, I wanted to pin her ears back. Our families stepped in and kept us apart that time. She looks about twice my size, but I suspect it's all fluff. I keep myself well groomed and sleek.
She is stomping on all of my favorite places. Why I used to nap on her
doorstep. Now she always objects strenuously. Thank goodness she prefers to
prowl at night. I am used to being 
inside at night. When she's outside during
the day I've got to keep her in line, watch her every move, be ever vigilant
so that she doesn't take what is rightfully mine. I think she's learning that
there's someone with more authority around here. She'd better behave and keep
close to her own home. Of course I can stroll by, strutting my stuff, glancing
in her direction to make sure she stays in her place.
Ugh oh, gotta go. They're calling me. Do you hear? "Chelsea,Chelsea, here kitty, kitty, kitty. Time to come in! " I wonder what's for dinner. Trout or salmon?
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Another story by Maxine: Chelsea Simon-Cat Returns