|Telling Dad about my day.|
So I'm having a wild time, and then things become wilder. My friend and admirer Alexis spots me and waves. I send out a bay. She asks: "How does Mr. Tucker do with cats?" For indeed, a cat is hanging around the playground. Thinking this cat belonged to Alexis, I am reluctant to respond, out of politeness.
But then, things get out of hand.
The cat begins to approach. I bay. And bay. And bay. I could not be louder, or more direct.
Now, I understand that cats are contrary, but this is ridiculous. This wild thing decides to go on the aggressive. It actually runs toward me. Stupidly? Fearlessly. Frighteningly (says Mom). At high speed.
Alexis' daughter chases after it. It zigzags back after me. I'm rip-roaring mad, and if it weren't for Mom's constant weight lifting that helped her hang on to me, that cat would have been chewed up and spit out.
Turns out it was the same cat who decided to box with me a few weeks ago. I'm salivating for the chance to show it who's boss. But fortunately for Mom, Alexis' daughter chases again, the cat zips past me, and heads under the dumpster.
The way I see it, it's just the place for cats.