Saturday, July 7, 2012


Sully, a big softie, seems was the only thing keeping Lulu in her place. He freaked her out. Filled her with fear. If he was in her way, she would cautiously, slowly, quietly tip-toe "paw" by, not taking her eyes off of him. Lotus and Cali would go right up, bump into him, give him little nose-to-nose Eskimo kisses. Cali would even walk under him, back and forth, back and forth, her own personal doggie bridge. But not Lulu. Her holier than thou, Alpha Cat attitude was always brought back down to earth when Sully entered a room. I figured a little fear is good. Keeps things in check. But now that Sully's gone, Lulu's the big dog in the house. Barking at us. Ordering us around. Hissing at the other cats. Banging on doors. Monitoring the litter box like she's suddenly CEO of Pussy Potty Patrol, frequently causing furr-flying cat fight tornadoes in the hallway. What a brat. Then, right before I give her away to someone with lots of dogs, she'll pop up and slam her big fat belly right up against one of the humans, spooning close, purring,  humming I'm Sexy And I Know It and she's good for another day.

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