Hissy Fit

I think I finally learned -- albeit unwittingly -- where this phrase comes from.

Last night, while sitting in front of the TV and enjoying our mac and cheese, Diesel headed for the kitchen to scrounge for scraps. As usual. After a few moments of silence, Diesel hissed and threw himself against the back screen door, screaming and meowing like a mad cat. I followed the noise and watched Diesel facing off with another cat on the opposite of the screen. That cat just sat there, his gaze flitting from Diesel, haunched and rampaging that he couldn't strike him, to me, slowly approaching to frighten him off. I banged on the screen door, and the cat fled.

Then Diesel attacked. He clamped onto my right leg and screamed up a storm. I yelled, and Caesar rushed in, having to pry the cat from my leg. I rolled up the leg of my jeans to survey the damage: a two-to-three inch scratch beginning at the back of the knee and contouring to the knee cap, and myriad scratches along the calf and ankle. Meanwhile, Diesel continued hissing, growling, ears laid flat against his head, not allowing anyone near him for the next 20 minutes. He seemed possessed and in what I finally realized was a "hissing fit".

We've changed his name to Bruiser LaRue.