Now, I know I'm not a prime example for extolling the virtues of Sanity Inc., but I try to keep my head together as well as I can. Joel's head isn't screwed on any better, but we keep ourselves amused, and the men in the white coats have yet to show up.

Maybe they're too scared.

But I'm beginning to suspect that I'm just a giant lab rat in one of the more "experimental" trials that the Mothership is studying.

We have Shmogg, allegedly a greyish moggy, of no fixed parentage, who has demonstrated his uncanny ability to pull more cunning and strangely macabre bastard Cat tricks as time progresses.

The other protagonist in this story is Fluffy, allegedly a black and white with grey spots dog, of no fixed intelligence, who has an uncanny ability to chew through anything and being joyfully happy at the merest presence of Joel or I.

The partnership didn't not appear to be a good one, but I am a mere mortal and do not understand the incredible espionage and skullduggery of the cat-will. For a little under a year, while Fluffy was forever trying to make friends, Shmogg has shown less than a neutral demeanor to Fluffy, either ignoring her presence as if she was beneath his dignity, or hissing and growling if she got to close and affronted his royalness. Not the most desired way of living, but no so unusual as to call my attract my suspicions.

This was of course, a huge ruse, to stop me noticing the odd, eldritch changes taking place within my charges. It would do no good for The Plan to be discovered too soon and be thwarted before the final execution. As far as I knew, the "dog" was acting as a "dog" would, and the "cat" was being cat-like, and life continued on its merry way.

But eventually, the trap was sprung, and I fell for it, hook line and sinker. Joel actually noticed it first, in the way Fluffy stretched after a nap. She now stretches by putting her front legs out, bending down her head, putting a rump up and "pulling". Joel mentioned it and said "Hey, Fluffy is stretching like a cat:. ". I could not say I had seen her stretch any other way before and shrugged it off. But the absence of all memories of the time Before was part of the sickeningly twisted and writhing plot.

Fluffy has been seen to be taking on more and more cat-like habits. She now does "elevator butt" when you scratch at the base of her tail, and even licks at the air in a weird glazed-over sort of way that Shmogg does. She loves having the underside of her chin scratched as well. Fluffy has also started to have an unnatural interest with the kitty litter, while suddenly becoming toilet trained with The Great Litterbox of the outside. I was getting a little worried when I saw her scratch around a bit before and after doing her business, and I know damn well she has been trying to get up on the counters for a week now.

All this time though, Shmogg has becoming more and more distant, not interested in a good skritching, not particularly interested in anything much besides sleeping and eating, and, oddly, nose-to-nose meeting with Fluffy. Despite all these warning signs, I thought that because Shmogg was allowing Fluff to get closer and tolerating Doggy vulgarity near his Royal Dignity, they were finally, finally, settling their differences.

I really ought to know better. Fluff, since being toilet trained, has always indicated her need to go by pawing at the back door. Several times tonight, she has pawed, I have opened the door (to a very cold wind) and she has sort of sat, half in and half out, while I shiver. The last time I opened the door for her without her movement one way or the other, I jokingly said "come on, Fluff, you're not a cat".

I swear, both Shmogg and Fluff eyed me in shock for a split second, before going back to whatever it was they were doing.

And then it hit me. Shmogg has been giving Fluffy how-to-be-a-cat lessons. Fluffy really isn't all that stupid after all, its just that Joel and I are not her teachers. She learns her lessons well, but they are not the sort that go "sit" and "stay" but are catly ones on "how to hamper" and "how to look half starved less than an hour after polishing off the chicken that was supposed to be the blob's dinner tonight" sort of lessons. And, bugger me, she had learnt them well. She's not perfectly cat-like yet, and perhaps because she's fighting a whole heap of drooly, barky, waggy genes that are against all things Cat, she may never make it, but heck, she's giving it one hell of a go. No wonder Shmogg has been distant and smug-looking, he's been flat-out using his iron-fisted Great Cat Will on her feeble doggy brain and the use of all that psychic energy wears him out.

Finally, it all made sense now. Of course, Fluffy thinks Shmogg is the true Ruler around here, we treat him as such anyway. And therefore its only natural Fluffy would try to please the boss of the household. Even that strange almost growl she sometimes does when she's really contentedly happy makes sense with this sudden epiphany. How can you please a cat more than being his perfect mirror image, his great emulator?

Fine, whatever, at least I understand it all now. All the strange actions, the bizarre behaviour,the nose touching. All of it was coming into focus. It was a little weird, but it was all perfectly logical, yet...

Shmogg came into the computer room after Fluff had gone to bed, sat down and then threw me that high pitched stare of his he uses to *demand* my attention. No mortal can withstand it, and so I turned, with full attention, to face my master.

"Woof"

Bastard Cat. Or should that be Bastard Dog?

Do the men in white coats do emergency call outs?

Copyright © Vicky Chapman
May 8, 2000