I'm happy to report that our new kitten, Trillian, is assimilating into the household quite nicely. I've seen her playing with Velvet and my husband has watched Xena initiating play with her.
It's great that Xena likes to play with Trillian, but there's one plaything that she simply will not share: my husband.
This means that Xena feels compelled to (literally) fling herself into my husband's arms at every opportunity so he can carry her around and treat her like the queen she knows herself to be.
Today my husband reported that Trillian had climbed into his arms for a little attention. While he was petting her, Xena came into the room, shot hate-filled looks in the kitten's direction, very deliberately climbed up on the ottoman by my husband's feet and turned her back on them.
My husband eventually put Trillian down and tried to pet Xena, which earned him a bite on the hand. Xena then jumped down, chased the kitten into the basement, cornered her and started hassling her until she squalled for help.
So basically we're hosting the feline version of Rock of Love in our house right now, except that at least the cats stay out of our liquor cabinet. Do you think Sharon Osbourne is available to referee?