The teeming terrier who lives with us has perfected new levels of reproach.
He is a virtuoso: an artisan of non-verbal communications. And he is bringing all his considerable doggy skill to bear on a particular problem he has encountered.
It is now more than a year since a small pair of kittens came to invade his living space. One left us, and we miss her sorely; but one has stayed: a siamese ginger tom. Montgomery The Cat.
Every cat has his (or her) personality. This one is no exception. Montgomery is a bludgeon in cat form, laced with oriental charm and an impertinent forwardness which enables him to walk straight into the hearts of us humans. No pass required. When he wants something, he does not stop to question whether he is entitled, or whether someone might be offended or displeased. He simply walks over and gets it.
Or jumps. Ninja style.I have a problem with the fridge; it is eye level, yet when I open it miraculously there is a cat inside, examining the contents, checking out the ham, eyeing up the milk, yada yada.
Mac has watched, dismayed. He has never been allowed on the bed, yet lo: Monty bags the top spot without even asking, and no-one seems to stop him. Mac cannot reach the fridge, and people seem unaccountably to object to his personal aura when he jumps up on the sofa. Why they are so agin eau de forêt he has no idea; but he does not factor in his owners’ sense of smell when noting rank double standards.
He has carefully observed Monty’s behaviour, and then mounted a dual campaign. He does everything that Monty does; and when we grimace, and go to usher him hurriedly off, he turns on his guilt ray.
Mac should go into arms dealing. If any superpower had what he had armed combat would never be necessary again. The power of this thing, even in a small dog, is of international proportions. One reproachful glance can move mountains.
So he jumps up onto a pristine duvet, wedge wood-blue-perfect cotton perfection; bringing wood shavings, peat, the odd small opportunistic spider, and god knows what other legions with him.
And then he turns his limpid brown eyes on my and says, without a word: “You let that cat do this all the time. I have served you faithfully for nine years. This is my right.”
And I sigh, and resign myself to four days with a peaty spidery smelly duvet.
It backfires on him, though. In one significant way.
Every time this happens, I resolve to give the dog a bath.
24 thoughts on “The Campaign: A Macaulay The Dog Story”
It’s true that Macaulay’s power is of international proportions. He certainly has the United States under his peaty little paw.
He will be delighted to hear it, Kathy. I should point out – merely as a point of order- that no-one in the US can smell him.
if only he would learn to do that one special thing cats do that so distinguishes them from dogs
……and that is…….?
to wash themselves 😉
You set her up for it, and she walked right into that one! 🙂
A campaign waged brilliantly by Macauley. :I
Indeed, Penny. Mac 1, Duvet 0.
As it should be, Macauley! We’re totally on your side! Max and Berkley in Virginia
Mac thanks his transatlantic comrades profusely 🙂
Perhaps Monty could teach him to clean himself? I guess that’s pushing it. Sorry your lost your other kitty. Seems like your woods just swallows them up!
I know, Kate: We have had to be very strict with ourselves and not get over protective of Monty. We feel very relieved he has stayed around to be with us. That’s a novel thought: cleanliness lessons from Monty Cat….
You would never cat a dirty cat on a bed. You might find the evidence of one having been there, but even that is likely to be a set up by the dog (well that’s what Rover says anyway).
Tell Rover I shall bear that in mind:D
get the feeling Rover wrote that 🙂
One day sale only! Peaty, spidery, smelly duvets, half off! Everyone should buy one. Cats just don’t obey. They are descended from Egyptian gods, they know it, and there’s nothing to be done about it.
This is true, Gale. I can’t help feeling Anubis has not done for canines what some of the Egyptian cats did for their kind. Surely the God of the Underworld could have got a better deal for dogs?
Sorry you’ve lost another cat, Kate. Glad that Mac and Monty are still around as faithful companions (and bitter rivals).
For shame Kate! How could you be so cruel? A cat? What is the world coming to, if ever Mac wants to be a £10 Pom I shall sponsor him, I’m sure my dog will treat him with all the respect due!
A cat ? What’s the world coming to….. ( says he scratchinghis head exiting stage right)
Dogs cannot seem to come to terms with the concept that they are here to serve humans, but cats are here to rule humans.
No: I’m not sure how to get the message across, Col!
Lose- lose for poor Macaulay……..I feel for him Kate 😦
I do understand. I really do…our hearts melt at those imploring eyes. The good thing (maybe the only thing you can look forward to)–when you get older, some smells elude. LOL! My kids are always telling me the dog needs a bath; my mother would be appalled that I let Zena on the furniture! But you do understand. 🙂