Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Cat and Dog (09/04/14)
- TITLE: Forbidden Love (with apologies to William Shakespeare)
By Judith Gayle Smith
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Snuffy, a salivating, uncouth and peeing puppy, annoying, yapping, pledged undying passionate hopeless romance.
Fifi, her age permitting her formality, dispassionately, royally feigned disinterest, curling her, plump overfed form into protective mode.
Fifi switched to huge black pupils mode, swishing her fox-fuzzy tail to the rhythm of her accelerating heartbeat. Snuffy was enchanted, totally captivated and unreasonable.
Snuffy, twelve weeks old, half Fifi’s thirteen pound bulk, switched to “intimidation mode.” He had prey – that twitching furry tail. He almost lost an eye that day . . .
It has taken Fifi seven years to hold her own with “the dog.” She still hasn’t forgiven us for adopting him. To Snuffy, Fifi was a “real fox.”
No one told us that one should never pair a Psychotic Parsons Russell Terrorist with cats with huge fluffy whipping tails. This breed of terrier/terrorist was bred to capture the beautiful, sly and intelligent fox. Tail docked to safely pull insistent digging doggy from burial in foxholes.
Beautiful, sly, intelligent foxy Fifi became his favorite “toy” – much to her overwhelming dismay. Forbidden love. He soon turned his attention from play to lover. Fifi furiously reacted with hisses, nasty growls, blackest pupils and razor-sharp claws made for disemboweling pesky critters.
To be fair, poor Snuffy was species challenged. Neutered at a very early age, he nonetheless matured to a very loving pup. Again, Fifi could care less, but if she was careless, Snuffy was all over her like the proverbial bulldog on a pork chop.
She did accept the ear grooming, the back end cleaning – even lifting a dainty leg to allow his tongue access to her delicates. This was a blessing to us all, as trying to clean a pure white Turkish Angora is dangerous to humans. We did not accept Snuffy’s face-licking until the following day.
While Fifi endured his attentions, Snuffy couldn't quell his desire for this aloof, sometimes terrifying gorgeous creature he desired. Fatherhood may have been his motivation – he not only was species confused, but just didn’t know how to act with the ladies – Fifi in particular.
We feed Snuffy in our bed/living room. Most often we must endure the begging phase for “the treats irresistible.” Snuffy, pleadingly, can jump as high as five feet now. He will turn himself inside out for a treat. He is all dog. Fifi ignores catnip. Snuffy likes a very healthy pet store dry dog food. Fifi eats anything dry and begs for more – constantly.
I feed and water Fifi in my/her very own bathroom. Fifi is enamored of my knees and calves. This can be awkward if I am eliminating foodstuffs. She will purr so loudly, and fondly that I question her sanity (as I do my own), and then, companionably she will enter her litter-box and keep me company, squatting. I don’t know whether to be honored or shaken by her copycat methods. I must keep this bathroom door closed against the wiles of Snuffy, who patiently waits for the door to open so he can have her food – especially the recycled delicacies that just beg him to partake. Again – no face licking until the following day, if not week . . .
Fifi often saunters to Snuffy’s bowl to eat his blah dry dog food. He permits this, accusing me of being unreasonable concerning the bathroom door. He won’t share bathroom privileges until he learns to properly use her litter-box, not for withdrawals but for deposits only.
Competition for the bed is riotous with these two “siblings” in the fur/flesh. Snuffy will lunge at Fifi who very quietly claws up the side of the bed to me, starts her loud insane purring, butting my face determinedly. I push Snuffy off of her (again species-challenged) and let him snuggle beside me – one hand calming him and one hand stroking his best friend’s ears . . .
Slapping my Cpap over my nose, I select an area of Scripture in my “GoBible” to listen to and calm my jangled nerves, grab my beloved’s hand for prayer (even for these two furry crazy kids), and settle in for deep sleep. That is, until Snuffy remembers Fifi is purring atop me. He chases her off, rudely, and lays victoriously and quite heavily upon my chest – and that tongue is dangerous.
Cats purr, dogs grrrr.
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