Dear Brielle buddies,

Happy early and/or belated Thanksgiving to Brielle’s American and/or Canadian sponsors. (And if you’re somewhere else entirely, we give tremendous thanks for you, too. Brielle promises to eat some extra minced turkey on your behalf.)

While we’ve not heard any more from the young veteran who’d fancied Brielle this fall, it’s still been a very good month for our girl. For starters, the kitten population in Brielle’s Community Room has plunged down to three — and three very agreeable kittens, at that. While wild children Bones and Magdalene were adopted, gentle Creamsicle, George and Okra remain. More importantly, Creamsicle, George and Okra ignore Brielle — perhaps the best way kittens can respect their elders.

Not that there’s anything elderly about our little-legged lovebug. The first cold snap finds Brielle feeling zippy — and a tad snappish. Just when it seemed Brielle’s old rivalry with cranky Queen had subsided, this month Brielle decided to tangle with that prickly princess.

Trust me, friends, I’m the last to admit it (and I did my best to remain oblivious to reality on Brielle’s behalf for as long as possible)…but Brielle has, indeed, been the instigator of her latest “issues” with Queen. Admittedly, this doesn’t take much — but by now, Brielle knows well enough how to avoid Queen’s wrath, and she’s clearly choosing to shake up that can of worms, then send it screaming open.

It generally goes something like this. Queen will be perched on a Community Room chair, always with one green eye half-open for danger and disrespect. (Queen has an extremely keen sense of decorum.) Brielle will stroll past, slooooooowly, her tiny tail straight in the air, then pause right in front of Queen’s chair to make a sound from the back of her throat:

NNNNNnnnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It’s not a meow, exactly. It’s not a growl, either. What it is, is a very clear message: I don’t like you, and I’d like you to know that I don’t like you. I find you distasteful, and I’d like you to taste my distaste.

Most cats would be able to ignore such a provocation, but not Queen. Livid, the black cat will begin to hiss, growl and punch at the air within an inch of Brielle’s head. WHO’S DISTASTEFUL NOW?!?!

Inevitably, I will then fly out of my chair and shoo Queen away, comforting Brielle.

Yes, I’m afraid I’ve become one of “those parents.” My child would never be the bully.

On second thought, maybe it’s not Queen that Brielle is provoking. Perhaps it’s, um, me.

Dear sponsors, however odd Brielle’s interfeline social scene may be, our tiny tuxie is one happy, healthy girl. Thank you for giving her a home, a superabundance of affection, and a family of funny felines and humans right here at Tabby’s Place. Bri and I give grand thanks for you!