LIFE IS SCARY! by Charlie

Mom keeps saying that I am a scaredy-cat, and I am proud to say that she is right.  However, I prefer the term "wisely cautious."  I have no other choice than to be this way, because here we are, two cats in a house with four dogs, and those are really terrible odds.  Anyone could see that.  And besides the worrisome presence of the dogs, there are plenty of other things to make a cat take cover.  For instance, there's the vacuum cleaner.  And sometimes there are Strange People who come into the house -- by which I mean anyone who is not Mom.

Sometimes I think my sister Chloe is totally lacking in good sense.  I have often seen her brazenly sashaying around, right under a dog's nose, as if she didn't understand that said canine could break her neck with one snap of his evil teeth.  And maybe she really doesn't understand this, because if she did, she would surely not be so foolhardy and imprudent.

On several occasions, Chloe has actually gone OUTSIDE, in the BACK YARD, even though she is not supposed to do this.  But Mom usually leaves the back door open when the stupid dogs are out there running around and twice Chloe actually got shut out because Mom didn't know she went out there.  Then when all the dogs came in, Mom closed the door.  So Chloe had to meow loudly and scratch the door to let Mom know that she wanted back in.

Oh, and here's another dumb thing Chloe did the other night.  It was bedtime, and Mom let the dogs out to potty, and then she ran down in the basement just to get a couple of things out of the dryer.  After that, everybody came upstairs, and Mom came in the Cat Room to brush me a little bit, which was nice of her, but I was kind of nervous because that Tall Dog was lurking in the hallway.  He's the one that scares me the most of all!  Anyway, after a while, Mom realized that Chloe didn't seem to be anywhere around, which was odd, because Chloe is always around, like sitting in Mom's lap or hanging out in the bathroom while Mom is brushing her teeth.

So Mom went looking for Chloe, and guess where she found her!  In the basement.  Yep, there she was, sitting on the basement steps in the dark, waiting for Mom to let her come back upstairs.  Of course, I will be the first to admit that the basement is a really cool place for exploring, with lots of mousy smells and cobwebs and all kinds of interesting stuff to see and do.  I like to go down in the basement as much as Chloe does, but I know that it's important to keep track of Mom while I'm there, so I can run back up the stairs whenever she decides to go back up.  Otherwise, I might get trapped down there like Chloe did.


Well, anyway, getting back to the dogs, I have to admit that I wasn't very sad when Mom took Gabe away that one day, and he never came back.  I know Mom was sad about it, and so was Piper, but frankly, Gabe was not a very nice dog.  At least, not to us cats.  Luckily, most of the time he didn't feel like chasing us, but he once told me that in his prime, he could catch any cat that scampered through the house, and chew it up pretty good, too.  Maybe he was exaggerating his prowess, but maybe not.

After Gabe went away, I really started feeling safe about coming out of the Cat Room and going anywhere I pleased in the house.  But then that Tall Dog, Nicholas, moved in.  Mom said he was a greyhound who was "cat safe," but I had my doubts about that.  So for my own security, I retreated to my safe space under the covers in the Cat Room, because I was afraid I would be eaten alive if I even came out to eat my cat food.  And I love cat food, but who can eat when he is terrified?

Well, Chloe, as usual, was out and about again within a day or so after the Tall Dog arrived -- sitting in Mom's lap, meowing for food in the kitchen, perching on the microwave, and hissing at Nicholas if he came too close.  She told me that she had called Nick's bluff more than once, and that I shouldn't be afraid to do the same thing.  But I am afraid -- that's the problem.  I'm getting bolder, really I am.  I mean, I can go downstairs in the evenings and sneak around through the kitchen while Nicholas is sleeping in the living room.  But if he starts to get up, I bolt for the stairs, and then he tries to follow me.  I'm faster than he is, though, even if he is a greyhound.  I can run up the stairs lickety-split, while he's still thinking about how to get his big, clumsy feet on the first step!

Okay, well, Piper says I have written more than enough for one blog entry -- especially a blog entry by a cat.  So I'm going to stop writing, but I will first say that I am grateful to have had this opportunity to express my views.  And just to summarize the main points I was trying to make, they are:  (1) There are way too many dogs in this house, and (2) Chloe keeps doing irresponsible things that I am afraid will result in her getting into a lot of trouble someday!  So there!