I think I have said this before. MB is a no nonsense kind of cat. She does not play games. And just when I thought that things were calming down around here, she pulls out ninja moves that are straight out of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It’s insane!
So I get home from a gig late at night. Mike is not home and Mom and dad are sleeping, so I have my hands full with a gregarious poochie and two felines all attempting to roost with me. The pup follows closely, so cats scatter into a more distant orbit in the hall. Pooch is soon bored of my preparations for bed, so she sits in the doorway, spying the kits. Taylor, at the end of the hall – I’m sure he turned to dash when the dog comes into view (that is how he deals: avoidance). But to the pooch, this is an invitation to chase.
She starts down the hall. I turn to follow, but before I can take a step, a white orb of POOF flies past the doorway! I turn the corner to find MB landing in front of the dog with claws flying and hisses frothing from her mouth! WHOA! The pup bows down, submitting, snapped from her infatuation and frozen in dangerous distraction. I am in awe! Molly cat has just sacrificed herself for Old Man T. Bear’s safety! This is true love. The old man is hunkered behind the rails at the bottom of the stairs. In hasty retreat, I’m sure his paws did not touch a single stair on the way down. I carefully separate the “oil and water” (cat from dog) to make peace. It seems we have not quite settled; everyone’s personality is amped over this pups antics.