What Goes Around....

When my pug, Tulip, was twelve, I really wanted to get another dog; however, after considering the matter, I thought it would be too traumatic for the little gal.  She loved other dogs until about the age of 10, and then she was always pleasant towards them, but just wasn't very interested.  I felt my two-dog window had closed.

My boss is a cat person.  I won't write down the number of cats she had when I first started working for her, as it is something she prefers not to advertise.  People are judgmental when it comes to multiple cats.  But let it be said that she loves herself some cats, and knows a lot about them.  Her newest kitten was a British Shorthair, and when I met him I was instantly smitten--basically because he was a little dog in a cat-suit.  He was outgoing and friendly and cuddly, and so I began to think hmmmm, perhaps Tulip wouldn't mind if a cat came to live with us.  I wouldn't have to walk it, of course, so Tulip wouldn't have to watch me leaving with the cat and without her, and it wouldn't become a competing pack member in her eyes.

So my boss got in contact with her Brit's breeder, and soon, lo and behold, I brought Plum Dumbledore home:

Plum is a lilac British Shorthair, born in Kiev, and then spent his second and third months in Brooklyn.  He is, to all intents and purposes, a purple cat.  His breeder had a thick Russian accent, and delivered many bon mots that I like to bring up from time to time, such as:

• This one, he do not do what you do not like (I like to parrot this precisely when -- you guessed it -- Plum is doing something I do not like).
• This one, he like to sit and philosoph.
• This one, he very smart and very tender.

Plum was my first cat ever.  I knew nothing about them, beyond that I had been attacked by one as a child once, and thereafter had only liked my friend Nelia's cat Miko (a fine beast!).  He does seem to me to be very smart (Brits are often used in movies and on tv, because they are supposedly very trainable.  And Plum does seem very interested when I clicker-train Dorothy).  

But I digress.  To summarize, I wanted a dog, but didn't want to upset my Tulip, so got a British Shorthair, Plum.

Tulip's response to Plum, from the first day she met him to her last day on earth, was to pretend He Was Not There.  She Did Not See Him.  There Was Nothing In The House But A Girl and a Pug.  Plum, on the other hand, was instantly smitten with Tulip!  He wanted to play with her, he wanted to cuddle with her, he wanted to do whatever Tulip was doing.  This made it difficult for Tulip to ignore him, but ignore him she did.

Here are several pictures of Plum trying (and succeeding) to cuddle with Tulip on the couch, while Tulip sticks to her guns:  the cat is not there.

Here is Tulip giving me the hairy eyeball, while trying to ignore the warm bit by her rump:

And here is Plum, lying Just Like Tulip, Oh Isn't This Grand!:

And here is Tulip finding it difficult to pretend that she is still an only pet:

And this one is my favorite of all--Tulip, determined to remain blase despite the disembodied head by her left flank!:

Well, Tulip crossed the rainbow bridge last March, but I'm sure that she is very amused (in a raising one eyebrow kind of way) at the current state of affairs in my household.  For here is the Older Pet about to be tormented by the Younger Pet, and on the very same couch where Tulip herself was tormented!  Here comes trouble!

And now Plum has been forced to leave his comfy spot:

I swear I hear Tulip making a sound that goes something like:  coughkarmacough!