Big Brass Ones

tennis, anyone?

Some of my readers have remarked upon the sudden appearance of a cat in my narrative. The cat in question has, in fact, been around since time immemorial (the memory of Dog runneth not to the contrary); I just haven't deigned to mention her until recently. She claims to have survived two dogs already, which may well be. But if she's thinking of surviving three, she's going about it the wrong way.

[Someone wanted to know the cat's name. That depends to some extent on who(m) you ask. The bipedess (she of faint memory) calls her Katie. The biped generally refers to her as "that miserable effing cat." I've chosen the middle ground and refer to her simple as "the cat."]

ANYWAY... I think you will all agree that I'm a pretty easy going sort of dog. I'm not gruff. I'm not pedantic. I'm not narrow minded. I like everybody, INCLUDING cats. I have never displayed anything other than a polite, even tender, interest in the cat. For which I have received numerous claws-out blows to the side of the head. But I have always, until recently, turned the other jowl.

I have even suffered the cat to eat from my food bowl, waiting patiently until she gets her fill. But two nights ago, as *I* was eating from my food bowl, the cat waltzed right up and batted me in the side of the head! Tried to run me off my own damned food! Well, I'm afraid I had to go a little postal on her @ss. Didn't leave any marks--nothing like disemboweled her--but I'm pretty sure I put the fear of Dog into her.

The meek may indeed inheret the earth one day, but in the meantime, I plan on staying well fed. See youse.