So I let Guapo (my gorgeous pooch) out, and he takes off running. I’m like, @#$%^&*!
And so I take off after him and find him under a picnic bench in a stand off with a black cat. They’re both on all fours with their backs arched, growling and hissing. I know it’s the cat’s fault. She provoked him. My doggie’s too good to have wandered off on his own.
Anyhoo, so I bravely step forward. “Now kids, you know to play nice.” They both look at me. And I sort of take a second to evaluate if they really ARE looking at me, as if they understand me.
So anyway, while Guapo is a bit taken off guard by mommy’s arrival, I reach down and pick him up. Because I know me telling him to “come” isn’t going to work. Not when he’s in an old western stand off with a mean black cat.
We hike it back to the RV, me carrying him. And I hook him up to his leash and attach it to the RV’s awning, figuring I’ll give him a little “outside” time to cool off from his vicious cat encounter.
A few minutes later I hear growling and peek out the window. Guapo is stretched to the end of his leash, and the black cat is mere inches away, rolling around, taunting him “Nah-nah-nee-boo-boo, you’re on a leash.”
So I did what any good mommy would do. I walk out the door, grab the broom, and give her one swift (not so gentle) sweep off my property. And then I turn to Guapo, exchange a high five (actually, I just pet his head while he wagged his tail), and we go about our business.