Bad Cat

Snowball meets Peaches

Due to an unusual set of circumstances your dog ended up spending the weekend with new friends. She seemed happy enough with the idea as it was explained to her, and in fact enjoyed sticking her head out of the car window on the ride to the Forresters. Once she saw the large fenced in yard, and the lovely flower gardens to dig in, it seemed like Paradise. The freedom to run at large in an area protected from the neighborhood toughs like the dachshund across the way, and the terrier in the adjoining yard. She could bark at them, and they couldn't get at her. What a perfect place. She ran and played. She ran in circles. She found some smelly stuff near the bushes and rolled in it just for the fun of it. Her little home was just inside the open door to the garage, and a familiar smell was to be had from her blankets in there. Pup Heaven.
Then, along came a cat. A pretty big cat. She looked friendly enough. Steve told me her name was Peaches, and to play nice. She looked a little old. Big, but old. Didn't seem to walk very fast, I could run circles around her, and she just sat there. I lunged at her, and she just sat there. She appeared to be a big, old, boring cat, that just didn't have the time of day for me. I played in the yard for an hour or so, and barked at all of the neighborhood pets that I could see. Steve let me inside the house to look around, and he went off to do something with the colored screen John is always working on. I saw my chance, and made a dash for the cat bowl. It was full of yummy cat food. I looked around, and no one was watching, so I began to make a stolen meal. The next thing I know, that stupid old cat is right behind me making a fuss. Whack, I take a paw up against the head that sends me spinning into the wall. Yelp, and I'm out of there. That cat does not like me eating her food. I am sure of it. I think I will lay low for a while, and get back to the cat food when she is not looking. An hour passes, and I think the coast is clear. I sneak over to the bowl, and suddenly, I am knocked into the corner, and that cat is everywhere I turn. Paws to the left. Paws to the right. She must have taken lessons from George Foreman. There is no way out. Yelping doesn't help. I run, but she is right after me. Outside, and into the yard. I only thought I could run fast. That cat is everywhere. She actually got me down, and held me there. I put my paws over my head and just waited. Apparently, waiting is what cats do best. Each time I lifted a paw, she whacked me again. She did this until she got bored. Then, she walked away about three feet, and waited some more. I do not believe I will be eating any more cat food. It really wasn't that good. Besides, Now, every time I want to go into the house, or the garage, or through the garden. If she is there, I have to walk around her. She just sits there daring me to get close. I think she is a bully. A big, fat, old, sneezy, stupid, sneaky, bully cat. Lucky for me she likes the front yard better than the back yard. The yard is still fun, but that cat acts like she owns the place. I think I will be glad when John & Joyce get back.