Tommy is having an identity crisis. Anyday now I'll catch him on the bathroom counter assessing his reflection in the mirror. He's already staring at himself in windows and television screens (when the power is off). I can see the wheels turning in his little head.
Classic Egyptian chiseled face - check. Green eyes - check. Whiskers - check. Plume tail - check.
Then Tommy practises his voice running up and down the yowl scale. He chirps and mews; acks and chatters. Low purr mode is tested: barely audible - check; rumbling - check. High purr mode is tested: loud enough to be heard over the phone - check; loud and vibrating - check. The latter always results in more rubs from humans.
Final diagnostics: leaping in single bound to back of recliner - check; intwinning around humans legs - check; hardwood floor stealth mode - check.
Tommy is having an identity crisis. Multiple times a day he evaluates Holly. Tall and blonde - check. Pants and drools - check. Barks and whines - check. Cannot walk quietly on hardwood floor - check. Summation: Holly is a dog.
"You Human. Yeah, you, the one the Blonde usually answers to. We need to talk. That tall tail-less blonde is a DOG. I, short, black and handsome, am a CAT. I know Holly normally gets a fish-based kibble due to her allergy to chicken. But Human - you've gone too far and I'm extremely irked. Let me explain to you the natural order of things. I am a cat. Humans are on the earth to serve cats, not dogs. How dare you fix a dog special meals when I, the cat, get only the usual kibble? Has it occured to you to share a morsal or two with me? I will make you pay for your insulance. I will make the dog pay for reaping superior treatment. I am the CAT!"
Holly's been sick.
"Yeah, yeah; she got bit by a spider. Her face went all lopsided and goofy looking."
She had to go to the doctor. It may take a year or more for the toxins from the bite and steriods (medicine) to clear her system. Holly hasn't been feeling much like eating, which is causing more problems. So, to help her get better I'm fixing her meals.
Tommy got right up in my face. His green eyes stared unwavering into mine. "Human; you're missing the point. I am the cat. No dog is to ever, ever eat better than me. I GET THE TUNA!"
(ok, I heard the sudden inhale and before you exclaim "you're feeding your dog tuna?" allow me to explain. Holly is getting rice cooked down to mush flavored with albacore, water packed, tuna at a ratio roughly 1 cup mush to 1 teaspoon tuna. Think of this as a bland diet. As her appetite picks back up I'll begin adding kibble to the mix gradually taking her off the mush.)