So sorry to hear that about Tin-Tin, Pierre.
Spot looks like a dead-ringer for one of my four cats, Tinkerbell.
We didn't give her the name... she came with a name... Tinkerbell.
She's such a girly-cat. And kinda weird sometimes...
We call her "Stinker" but sometimes we call her "Buck Rogers" or "Jet Jackson". More often than not she appears to be on Space Patrol keeping all of the aliens away from our part of the universe. Apparently, those aliens are popping in and out, from one moment to the next, all over the house. I doesn't pay to get in her way when she's "on-duty". So far we haven't seen any aliens so she must be doing a bang-up job!
We got her, and two others, after we can home one day and found my favorite cat, $hitters, dead in his favorite sleeping spot. We never knew what happened. Anyway, we had $hitter and his brother Mopers. I couldn't bear the idea of Mopers being alone... so we went to get him a little pal... and came back with three little pals. The other two are brother and sister, Tuffy (the little prick) and Gizzy (Gizmo).
It took a while but they all came to terms. Mopers is definitely the boss and the kids know it. Now they all get along great.
It's been a couple of years since my dogs Tucker and Baxter died. We've been thinking yeah, we'll get a couple more puppies... but not yet.
Lately, my wife had been chomping at the bit to get one dog. She wanted a young dog, not quite a puppy.
I insisted that when we get a dog we will get two and that they will be babies... so that they and the cats can come to terms before someone was chewed to death or clawed to death. My insistence of two puppies kinda tempered my wife's urgency for a puppy.
Then my brother, in Florida, sends some pictures of the liter his dogs just had. They are American Eskimos. He said, "I have two brothers left. Do you want them?"
My wife turned into a kid looking through the candy store window. "Can I have one, huh? Can I? Huh? Can I? Pleeeeeaseee?"
Florida seems like it's half-way around the world from Oregon.
I said, "OK... depending on the logistics. BUT, if we take one, we take 'em both!"
So, just before Christmas, it happened. They came in on the Puppy-Line. A cute name that's supposed to make it easier on owners to accept the stressful effects of traveling in the cargo hold with baggage. It was a cross-country flight with connections in St. Louis and Denver. When they finally arrived they looked like they had been dragged all the way on the ground. Not that they looked bad, but they were obviously beaten up by the flight. I'm sure you know what I mean.
So, now we have a pair of American Eskimos, Charlie and Buddy. They know how to get clothes out of the hamper and they think that wall-corners are as tasty as slippers. At the Christmas gift-passing, they would sit on the sidelines, looking like good little angels... waiting for their chance. When something caught the eye, and as soon as we weren't looking, a white dart would fly in, grab a gift package and make a bee-line for the dog-door out to the backyard. Damn! They're almost as fast as the cats... all except for Stinker... I don't think there is a cat on the planet that's as fast as Stinker... well-tuned chasing aliens, don' cha know? Can you say..."Orange Blossom Special?"
They have eaten their way through every appliance cord they can get their little paws on. So far, they've been damned lucky. They've only gotten the ones that were plugged into timers. As luck would have it, the timer outputs were off.
I think maybe I'll plug a couple straight into the wall and leave them laying about. They are really good about going outside to take care of business. However, if they chew through a live-one I might have a puppy-present, or two, to deal with... that would be fine as long as the lesson was learned!
All in all, things are going OK. The cats have established their supremacy and the puppies are coming to terms with their new cat-ruled world. Not that the puppies are intimidated, but they know the line that can't be crossed.
However, when we take Buddy and Charlie out for a walk, that damned Buddy thinks he's 6-foot tall and can kick-a$$ on any four-legged thing in the neighborhood. I can see the Vet-Bills coming in now.
Say "HEY" to Spot for Mopers, Stinker, Tuffy, Gizzy, Charlie, Buddy and me. May he Live Long and Prosper!