Hell Hound Fails as Man's Best Friend

I was a bit worried last week, when an attempt to impress my Lady with my giant muscles prompted laughter instead of awe.

She must be starting to love that dog more than me, I thought.

Could it be true, what they say, about man's best friend...?" I wondered.

Then, just like the others before it, plan #64 to get Hell Hound thrown out of the Christie house backfired just a tad. It all started with an innocent conversation...

"Hey, you, Hell Dog, come closer," I called as the beast passed with a fluffy grey elephant in its mouth.

The dog, surprised by my location incognito beneath a blanket stopped in its tracks, drooling in such a gross manner that I began to feel queasy.

"Huh?" Hell Hound said, dropping the toy and snapping to attention when it realized its superior was calling. "Sir, Cat, Sir!" It barked.

"At ease solider," I replied, attempting friendliness.

"You know Herbert, I just read the most interesting news in the PETA newsletter about the latest fashion for soldiers in the PETA Army."

Hell Hound's ears tilted forward in anticipation of my tall tale. "Really, cat? Tell me more, Sir. By the way, my name is not Herb.."

"Whatever Doris Dog. Here is what I read. It is the latest fashion for those loyal to PETA to roll around in their own excrement as a sort of protest. Only soldiers should do it, not Sergeant Cats of course. The truth is, Hell Creature, you're just too clean."

Hell Hound stared blankly at the window. Perhaps it was thinking, or distracted by a passing fire engine. I had to clap my paws near its ears to bring the nit-wit back to reality.

"Hey, Spot!" I hissed, leaning into its ear. "Hell Raiser, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Then it began barking, "Sir, Yes Sir! Get dirty and roll in my...What is excrement, Sir?"

I leaned closer to whisper in layman's terms for the daft brute. Then, suddenly understanding me, it bolted out the back door to get messy.

Finally, my Lady is going to blow a fuse and throw the dog out for good when it jumps on the couch smelling like a toilet!I thought, and my eyes narrowed to glowing slits. Then I just sat back and waited, snapping my tail on the tile floor excitedly.

Eventually the dog, filthy and panting, came barreling back into the house. It jumped right into the arms of my poor Lady, who gasped at the sight (and smell) of that dog.

"Oh, no! My poor Hell Hound!" she exclaimed. "Are you sick? Quick, come with me."

I slithered around the corner to watch my Lady call the vet to arrange the execution, but something horrid happened instead. She took that Hell Hound into the bathroom and gave it the spa treatment, complete with lavender scented shampoo, ear cleaner and the giant hot air machine, MY favorite! That creature got brushed and hugged and wrapped in a towel while I sat, seething in the doorway. How could my Lady love the dog better?

My Lady must have seen the mortified look on my face because she said, "Why are you glaring at the dog, Norman? You can have a turn with the hair dryer too."

"My Lady, I stammered. "Do you still love me?" I covered my eyes, not having the strength to bear the answer.

"Well of course I love you!" She said, without hesitation.

"Do you still love that DOG!?" I continued.

"Well, of course I do." she answered.

"Even when it gets smelly?" I asked. My Lady nodded, toweling off the beast.

"How about when the wolf dog attempts to murder my little governess' favorite stuffed friend, Elephant?!" I dragged Elephant into the doorway, pointing to his injuries with my paw. My Lady yelped in horror. The dog's eyes widened.

Then I stretched a bit and returned to my favorite chair to listen to the merry sound of Hell Hound getting scolded, secure in the knowledge that my Lady and I are Best Friends Forever.

Cherrio!

-Norman Whiskers