Finley the evil cat
We have a cat named Finley. His name comes from a watering hole we lived near when we were in Huntington, NY called Finley's of Greene Street. It was a great bar in Huntington Village and kind of fit for a cat.
We got the cat about a year and a half ago because we wanted a dog but with three little kids and a small house, a cat was more manageable. He's a charcoal color, shaggy kind of hair that is not totally short even after we have him shaved (75 dollars) for the summer, and he is evil. Evil as Beelzebub. Here is why.
When there is no other animal in the house, Finley is a typical cat. Arrogant, aloof, non committal...
When there is no other animal in the house, Finley is a typical cat. Arrogant, aloof, non committal, kind of cold and distant. He appears every now and then when he feels like it, might approach someone, lay down for a second, and off he goes again to sleep quietly in some warm and dark corner of an open closet. The kids can pull on his tail and ears all day long and he doesn't scratch them, he just gets up and struts away like some movie star who can't be bothered by local fans. Overall, I don't like the cat because there is no interaction and no loyalty. It seems like he could be at any home, with any family and it wouldn't phase him. In fact, I bet if in some alter-world event another family of 5 came home from dinner, it would take him months to realize if at all. Now that I think about it, that stupid cat thinks we, I, exist to serve him and clean out his freakin cat litter box every week. And what's the freakin point, we got a cat so the kids could have a pet and what kind of pet is he?? Huh?? Seriously, what kind of pet is a cat that doesn't play, doesn't sleep on a bed at least when someone else is there, doesn't seem to really LIKE any of us and trust me, we are not mean to that stupid cat. At least Patti and the kids aren't. Why even get a cat, at least the kid's stuffed animals can be used at night to get them to sleep. Why not just stick one of Ethan's stuffed monkeys in the back of the closet and take it out once day to remind us it's still there, it would save on cat food and no more smelly box of cat sh*t in the basement. And that's another thing, every chance he gets, Finley runs out the door and I have to freakin chase him around the house like some merry go round to coax him back into the house. I started just letting him stay out there until someone else opens the door and he begs to come in. Rain, snow, cold, sleet, firey balls of hail coming down from the sky, I don't care, if Lord Finley wants to roam the yard like a bull out to stud then let him.
So anyway, a family that we are friends with had to go to the hospital (the wife was having a baby, their third) and we got to watch their dog Gloucester. He's a 70 pound yellow lab with a great personality, kind of like Puumba, our Rottweiler we had before Emily was born. Large dog but great with kids and people.
The problem with Gloucester (for those not from here, it's pronounced Glahster), is when he gets into our house he loses any sense of being a large male dog. The stupid cat immediately gets in his face and for just about every minute torments him. Finley stares at him and just when Gloucester puts his guard down, the cat pounces and bats at him. Last night at like 2 in the morning the cat attacked the dog and made both of them yelp or whatever sound a dog makes when it's attacked and whatever sound a cat makes when its attacking. It scared the living crap out of me, I thought there was a fight in a chicken pen or something, in my bedroom right at the foot of my bed. I almost got up and kicked the cat through the window but Patti would not have been happy we don't kick animals in our house she told me.
So the poor dog is by my side every second, and when I go out, he goes with me. He interacts with us. He sleeps on the bed with some part of him always touching me. He rests his head on my knee when I am sitting down. He is obedient and trained and reacts to me when I tell him something. When the cat is clawing on the couch that I AM SITTING ON and I yell at him to stop he doesn't even give me the courtesy to look at me when he ignores me. It takes a thrown pillow to get him to stop. When Gloucester is running along the brook the runs near our property, all it takes is a grunt and he comes back to my side.
So for the next three days I need to protect my temporary yellow lab. The cat is on him every second and the poor dog is going to leave his stay a broken animal, shaking and jumpy, eyes deep in his socket and black from lack of sleep, shoulders slumped from constant bullying, probably a twitch in his eye. Freakin cat, thinks he owns this house.
And we're getting a second cat in about 4 weeks. A calico, our neighbor’s cat had 4 kittens and we are told cats should be raised in pairs. Why do I agree to this type of stuff.