Hale Bopp had only met one dog face to face, a 10 week old Yorkie, so when he went running at the door, yowling and hissing, I just figured it was one of the stray cats that roamed the area, and asked His Highness to keep the noise down, and kept on surfin' the web. His Lord Kat Astrophy, how ever, not only did not accede to my request, but went into full arched-back-hissing-tail-straight-out mode and proceeded to have a go at the door with extended claws.

This behavior roused my curiosity, so I went to see what had his little kitty britches in a wad. I peeked through the keyhole to make sure the neighbors weren't just sitting outside, and was greeted by the vision of the Hound of the Baskervilles sitting on my stoop, thankfully tied to a post by a strong rope.

After making a quick call to my neighbor to assure myself that this creature was indeed firmly restrained, I opened the door. I will give him this, he made four whole steps out the door before he actually sized up the situation. He had smelled dog, his limited experience had taught him that dogs were little critters easily taken by a cat of The Bopster's rank, and he was ready to chase this one off as easily as the last.

The horse-wannabe saw The Bopster and let out one bark....more like a roar, actually. The Bopster's fifth step never reached the floor. As a matter of fact, I don't think any of his feet touched the floor until Hale Bopp was in the bedroom and firmly entrenched under the bedspread and a pile of pillows. The dog was a Mastiff of impeccable breed, it turned out, raised with cats. His "bark" had been a greeting, not a threat, but Hale Bopp wants no part of it, thank you.

[sigh] And I had to be out of film.

Copyright © Reggie
October 25, 1999