Princess hopped up onto the ledge and into the sunbeam.
It was her favourite spot in the whole house on sunny days.
Despite being a black cat, very nearly becoming too hot to the touch after sitting in a sunbeam for any length of time, she loved her sunshine.
The problem this day was that Chester, the other black cat, was already lying on that ledge.
Something Princess had seen and taken note of, but jumped up there anyways.
Perhaps in her old age she didn't care that the ledge was already taken.
Perhaps she thought she could squeeze into the other half of the sunbeam that wasn't already being taken up by Chester.
At any rate, there she was, up on the ledge, a mere three inches away from Chester.
Chester, for his part, was flabbergasted.
Neither of them are cuddle buddies; in fact Princess is very particular about her bubble, preferring a fairly big one around her, all day, every day.
Chester at first was startled at the sudden presence of Princess.
He looked at her in disbelief; looked away then back again, as if he was having a hallucination.
Nope. Princess was still there.
Well, this wasn't right, I could see he was thinking to himself.
He did several double takes as if to triple check what he was seeing was indeed real.
He shifted his body, so that his head was facing the other way, still keeping his body tight up against the window where he was originally laying.
Princess held her ground.
She sat down slowly, daintily. She had made her decision.
I did not see her face to know whether she was blinking her eyes or not; the universal language of cats that says "I am your friend."
But Chester's eyes were not blinking, not closing; although it was bright in that sunshine, he looked at her fully and still could not believe what he was seeing.
Princess continued to sit there, on a small part of the sunbeam, gathering its warmth.
Chester shifted his body again, turning around so his head faced the other direction, never taking his eyes off Princess.
She calmly continued to sit.
I felt as though they would make their peace, have a truce, and enjoy the sunbeam on that ledge together, the few inches between them serving to be enough for a thinner bubble.
There were no ears being pinned, no teeth being bared, and I wasn't close enough to hear if there were any growls, but I doubted it.
Finally, Chester could take it no more.
He lashed out quickly with his right paw - making contact with Princess.
She didn't move.
When that didn't seem to phase her, Chester did the only gentlemanly thing he could do: he jumped down from the ledge.
He gave up his sunbeam.
He acquiesced.
He could have pushed it; could have used his claws; could have drawn blood, watched the fur fly.
But he didn't.
Princess' quiet presence, her solid determination to sit in that sunbeam, albeit shared, so affected Chester that he gave up the ghost.
I couldn't believe what I had just seen.
The old, wise lady, Princess knew just what to do to goad Chester into giving up her preferred spot.
The wisdom of her age, the experience of her years, through sheer body language, no violence, no utterances, she willed herself to have that sunbeam on the ledge all to herself.
Chester seemed nonplussed as he settled himself down on the floor.
He had lost the sunbeam.
Princess didn't gloat; she slowly lay herself down fully onto the ledge where she basked in the sunbeam; and her glory.
The sun moved even further over the ledge, and now she had the whole thing to herself.
Chester had to make do with the carpet on the floor, nowhere near the warmth of the sunbeam and probably not as comfortable either.
I had to admire her skill at the art of passive-aggression.
She quietly, steadfastly won; her refusal to move, to give in, so put the fear of God into Chester, that he blinked first. He gave up his seat.
She doesn't seem to feel any guilt at all. In fact, she set about preening herself, slowly cleaning her body and face, languidly removing any trace of Chester's lashing, no fur seeming to be lost.
I am still laughing at the horror in Chester's face as he realized Princess was coming for his sunbeam.
Perhaps he knew it was already over before it started.
That he really only had a few minutes left in the sunshine before he would have to bow to her countenance.
Offer respect to the elderly; his seat on the bus as it were; her senior age of 18 trumping his by three years, which is a lifetime in cat years.
Soon she will be snoring in that sunbeam, on that ledge.
Loudly enough that I will be able to hear it across the room.
And how she doesn't melt is anyone's guess; her black fur absorbing the heat so it is nearing the boiling point.
And that is today's lesson; sometimes a good stare with a well intentioned pose can do wonders in getting what you want, without resorting to fisticuffs or name calling.
A lesson in passive-aggression, courtesy of Princess the cat.