Tonight Murph helped me take a birthday card to Lady’s mom, Ms. Tina. Lady’s one of his neighborhood buddies, a little beagle who lives a couple streets down.
While we were there Murph went on their screened-in back porch to check things out, but then he came racing back to the front frantically checking those windows. Ms. Tina figured he must have seen somebody or something coming as he was reacting like Lady did under similar circumstances.
So I asked him, “Did you see something, buddy?”
He looked up at me, wagged his tail, and looked back out the window. That’s his way of saying yes.
Both Ms. Tina and I looked but there was nary a soul in sight.
Teasing him like I like to, I asked, “Was it a rabbit?” His interest perked and he scanned the dark outside with more intensity. “Or was it a cat?”
He looked back at me then pawed at the door. That’s his way of telling me I hit the nail on the head.
“Maybe it’s that orange cat that lives next door,” Ms. Tina said. “Have you seen it?”
I knew which orange cat she was talking about so I nodded.
“It likes to come and sit on the sidewalk in front of the house and taunt Lady. It drives her nuts.”
Interesting.
It’s never shown much fear the times it’s met Murph with no glass door and a nothing but a mere leash separating them either. It sits wherever we come across it, usually somewhere near the creek, calmly and coolly, almost daring Murph to try something.
And I’ll never forget the orange cat by our apartment in Phoenix when we had Budly. More than once that little booger flew out of nowhere, jumped on Budly’s butt, and then zoomed off before Budly (and me) could fully grasp what had just happened.
So what’s up with orange cats? Are they all like that, fearless wonders? Or have we just known more than our fair share of dog antagonizing orange cats?
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