Kitty's a Bad Ass!
Jeez.
My sweet little Oblivia Suttherly, my red-headed step-child, showed me another side of her personality today I've never seen.
Addy is "test-driving" a dog, and brought him over to say hi. Kitty didn't take well to him.
First of all, my cat is a "dog person", she likes dogs. She's very approachable--they come right up to her and she's all nice and curious--she just raises a paw when they get a little too slobbery, they back off, and it's all fun and hunky dory. I feel she (a foundling waif) was raised with dogs: she's very comfortable around them.
But this dog was different for some reason. He just poked his head in the door (I didn't see this part, maybe he lunged?) and she turned into Bad Ass Mother Fucker From Hell.
Addy stepped between them, and got a cut up leg for her effort, dropped a bag of groceries, and tried to close the damn door NOW because kitty was on fire. The groceries were in the way, and the dog is jumpy, so no go. The dog started in barking and yelping, and this is where I just become aware the gates of hell have opened up.
I ran out to get between the cat and the door: she was mad to get out there and kick that dog's ass. Her back was WAY up and she was about three times her normal size. Her back ridge looked like a Punker's head, or a dinosaur's plates. She tried to get around me, I shooed her and she growled at me like a demon. I took my hands away and shook my foot at her. Lucky I was wearing shoes and not sandals because she shredded the leather in a double overhand polydactylic fireman's pull. Uh, sort of like reeling in a rope with both hands, but with knives. Totally different from my other cat's technique, which was a sort of one-armed windmill roundhouse... with knives (that was a rambunctious chow...) I always regarded her many digited paws as deformed and inept, but this scene revealed their exquisite utility.
I couldn't get her away from the door (hissing and growling and yelling like a banshee) until I picked her up (with my leather-bound foot!) and turned her around.
Then I tried to stomp the floor to get her to retreat, but she kept trying to end-run around. She wanted that dog!
Not a small dog. German Shepherd / Collie mix.
She was pissed, like I've never seen. Now the dog's gone and, after sulking in the bedroom for a while, she's as sweet and gentle as ever. She's moving around the room rubbing her cheek on everything now, fixing it all up after his visit.
And here I was worried about her going into the alley at night.
My sweet little Oblivia Suttherly, my red-headed step-child, showed me another side of her personality today I've never seen.
Addy is "test-driving" a dog, and brought him over to say hi. Kitty didn't take well to him.
First of all, my cat is a "dog person", she likes dogs. She's very approachable--they come right up to her and she's all nice and curious--she just raises a paw when they get a little too slobbery, they back off, and it's all fun and hunky dory. I feel she (a foundling waif) was raised with dogs: she's very comfortable around them.
But this dog was different for some reason. He just poked his head in the door (I didn't see this part, maybe he lunged?) and she turned into Bad Ass Mother Fucker From Hell.
Addy stepped between them, and got a cut up leg for her effort, dropped a bag of groceries, and tried to close the damn door NOW because kitty was on fire. The groceries were in the way, and the dog is jumpy, so no go. The dog started in barking and yelping, and this is where I just become aware the gates of hell have opened up.
I ran out to get between the cat and the door: she was mad to get out there and kick that dog's ass. Her back was WAY up and she was about three times her normal size. Her back ridge looked like a Punker's head, or a dinosaur's plates. She tried to get around me, I shooed her and she growled at me like a demon. I took my hands away and shook my foot at her. Lucky I was wearing shoes and not sandals because she shredded the leather in a double overhand polydactylic fireman's pull. Uh, sort of like reeling in a rope with both hands, but with knives. Totally different from my other cat's technique, which was a sort of one-armed windmill roundhouse... with knives (that was a rambunctious chow...) I always regarded her many digited paws as deformed and inept, but this scene revealed their exquisite utility.
I couldn't get her away from the door (hissing and growling and yelling like a banshee) until I picked her up (with my leather-bound foot!) and turned her around.
Then I tried to stomp the floor to get her to retreat, but she kept trying to end-run around. She wanted that dog!
Not a small dog. German Shepherd / Collie mix.
She was pissed, like I've never seen. Now the dog's gone and, after sulking in the bedroom for a while, she's as sweet and gentle as ever. She's moving around the room rubbing her cheek on everything now, fixing it all up after his visit.
And here I was worried about her going into the alley at night.