So one hand is in favor of it, the other is opposed?
both in favor - i want to ast two votes
Perhaps you might even cast two votes.
::snicker::
And I’m mighty flattered, thanks.
My sister had the same problem, so the vet put the bullied one on prozac. There was some logic there that no one but the vet understood.
Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be doing the kitty prozac route 
It’s not always that bad, I posted just after a particularly nasty spat. Right now they’re sleeping near each other. The problem was I got a new cat after having Zoe for about seven years, and I royally messed up the “introducing the new kitty” routine.
Pratchett the kitten is one of those who always has to be “helping” with whatever any human is doing. He will “help” you eat your cookies, brush your hair, put a new video card in the computer, use tools, smoke a cigarette, cook dinner; he draws the line only at “helping” to vacuum the house. He is also incredibly helpful when one goes to the toilet. He will purr and insist on being petted, rear up and put his paws (and claws!) into your knee, jump in the lap (okay when wearing clothes, less salutary when going for a quick pee in the middle of the night au naturel) “help” get the toilet paper off the roll, then “help” the poop go down the toilet when it flushes. He has also “helped” several people pee standing up by (I guess) providing a point to aim for… He has been waging a comprehensive “like me, dammit!” campaign against elder cat Stiggs with middlin’ success. So far, he’s managed to get Stiggs to forget himself long enough to play “hunt the foot under the door” and “swat the tail,” but is not making much headway with “chase me, chase me.” Luckily, Space the dawg is just fine playing “chase me” and is just as happy being chased by a red devil cat, and it’s just funny as hell seeing them zoom around the back yard as though they were the same size and species. For the record, Pratchett at seven months weighs about ten pounds (he’s 3/4 Maine Coon and will be monstrous when full grown) and Space weighs about 135–people are always expecting it all to go pear shaped between them, but it never does. The upshot of all this is that in the four years Space has been around Stiggs has been terrified of her and won’t get near her, but since watching Pratchett play with the dog like it ain’t no thang he’s feeling inadequate and shown up and has been asserting himself about going into the back yard and has even staked out the gazebo as his own personal turf. Space is inclined to accept this as Stiggs runs about 16 lbs and even a swat without the claws out can rattle the brain pretty comprehensively.
I’m betting the cats will settle their differences amicably during the winter when they figure out how much warmer it is when TWO fluffy kitties snuggle up together than it is for either of them separately.
I don’t think I’d worry too much about the cats settling things amongst themselves, either. As long as they’re all getting enough food, rubsies, and play time, and nobody’s getting hospitalized, it’s all good. My two adult female cats will never be good friends, but they have settled on an armed truce that works for them.