Not that they don't pee on the floor too....

Had a long day at work.Skipped the gym, because my knee's acting up and I'm meeting with  my trainer tomorrow night. Got home, discovered the cat had peed on the floor. Left a HUGE puddle. Cleaned it up, cleaned up the litterbox (it's the fancy self-cleaning kind, but the little container was full), grumbled a little.

Went upstairs, ate some dinner. Gulan comes upstairs and jumps up on the arm of my chair, purring and all love. Until Maggie comes over to see what's up. She leans her little head off the chair, and Maggie meets her nose to nose. All seems fine until - without any warning - the (fortunately declawed) cat takes a swat at her and starts hissing.

Poor Maggie was so startled, and just kept looking at me, all baffled, like, "But....but....I just want to be friends! What did I do??"

Now, I feel for the cat, I do. Her house burned down, she was living in the basement utility room of some strange people, and then a totally new strange person steals her and whisks her away to a new land of weird that has a giant smelly dog in it.

But here's the thing....I like cats, but really? I'm a dog person.

Not to mention, I've had this particular dog for seven and a half years. Dog's been with me through some of the worst times of my life. And I'm nothing if not loyal - usually to a fault. The moral of that story being, the way to incur favor with me? Is most. definitely. NOT. to mess with my dog. Especially when I'm all tired and cranky and post-weekend coverage.