My Cat is a Corleone

Before anyone says I told you so, I do not regret getting the puppy.  I only realize I've added one more captor to my small furry brigade of dictators.  And this one?  Doesn't fuck around.  And?  He looks like an Ewok and is therefore difficult to be angry with.  And? he is a sneaky little motherfucker.

To backtrack here for a minute, I do have two cats as well.  Melody, who is a voluptuous lady in her own right, is fairly accepting of our new little furry commander.  She's not doing cartwheels or anything but she's okay with it. As long as she is still fed and her belly is still rubbed, it's okay.  Callie,on the other hand, is not okay.  Callie prides herself on her dignity and role as the utmost lady.  She is sleek.  She is a hunter.  She always looks pissed off.  This has increased tenfold since the arrival of Chuy.  She enjoys hissing at him.  Yesterday she got up on the table (I know, I know) and sat on the corner and glared at me and my daughter.  Then I had Chuy up on my lap so she ever so gracefully sauntered over, got about three inches from his face, hissed and walked away.  He just sat there.  Probably wondering what the fuck her problem is.  I know he's not scared of her because last night he had his third barking session ever while trying to get her to play. He growled and barked and pranced and pounced and she just sat there.  With hatred emanating from her very being.

What I didn't realize is apparently she belongs to some sort of Kitty Mob.  How did I come to this realization?  There is a dead mouse on my patio this morning.  He's just dead.  He doesn't appear to even be very chewed up or anything.  Have I mentioned I'm afraid of mice, rats and rodents in general? Like we will have 78 cats, dogs, fish and what have you before any of my children ever have a hamster as a pet.  Again, I come by this fear honestly.  My little brother's hamster once cornered my mother in her bedroom.  No joke.

Callie has left the odd dead bird in the yard and they are usually pretty dismantled.  And for all you bird lovers out there she has a collar with a bell on it but is a pretty good hunter. Anyway, to me, the mouse is a message to me and my oblivious little pal, Chuy.  If she could have gotten it into the house I have no doubt he would have woken up with it next to his head.  A la the Godfather and the horse head scene.  How she picked up on my inherent and inherited fear of the little varmints is beyond me but I was quite unsettled when I saw it out there this morning and prayed Chuy wouldn't go near it because I'm NOT FUCKING TOUCHING IT. It will be there until my husband gets up and moves it.

Well played, Callie, well played.

As for Chuy, he much prefers to do his business indoors, thank you very much. I swear I can be outside with him for hours on end and he'll hold it until we get in and then disappear the minute I'm not looking and poop in the basement and pee on the mat under my kids' table.  I watched the puppy training video.  I'm following it to a tee.  Chuy does not care.  Chuy prefers carpet based toileting.  Luckily since he's the size of a cat, it's not much mess to clean up.  Toby, on the other hand, our dear sweet Golden Retriever who sheds more hair than anyone or anything has a right to? Had a total of three accidents as a puppy and we were done. He was good.  It should me mentioned though that if he does get sick and has an issue in the house? He does so on carpet.

And I go right around behind them cleaning it all up.  They have to enjoy that a little.

If you'd like to read more about my suspicions of my pets' actions and see photos of our three senior residents, check out Animal Domination.