I'd like to introduce you to the great black-and-white hope: Butch. The fluffy, lovable cat-dog. Butch was delivered to my roommate and me yesterday evening. His task? Find, defeat and eliminate Fievel(s)!
So far, Butch has not scared the mice out of their holes. He did a great job, however, of scaring the sin out of me. You see, I'm not really a cat person. And having never grown up with one around the house, I'm not accustomed to their nature. What I'm used to is hearing the clickity-clack of a dog's nails as he trots along a wood floor. I am used to the jingle of a dog's collar with all its registration and rabies metals. But the quiet pads of a weightless cat? Not so much.
Butch introduced me to himself, tail first. And it terrified me. I have a weird fear of black cats. They just make me uneasy. And when I was in my room unpacking from the wedding last night in the quiet of my room, out crept a scraggly, bushy black tail from behind my big sitting chair. I screamed and jumped around. Well, hello, Butch. Next time, no need for the dramatic entrance.
Since Big B's arrival, he hasn't held up his end of the bargain quite yet. I still like him, though. He reminds me of my dog Sebastian, the way he constantly rolls onto his back to get a belly rub. He also does a fair amount of following us around (when he's not hiding in the closet). It also appears that he enjoys sitting around and rubbing around every corner of the house more so than hunting. I hope he will start to feel more comfortable soon, because we only have him through the weekend.
Chop chop, Butch!
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