My "Cat"

I don't like cats. I know this is shocking. Actually, I really love the big, big cats. The ones that eat you. Or at least they could eat you if they desired. I like those cats. From a distance. Not up close. Never up close. But, the little cats, the ones that stay inside your house and generally ignore you until it's convenient for them to be your friend- I don't like those cats. For one, they climb up on everything. And secondly, they catch mice and bring them to you as if they've brought you the best present ever. Also, they do their business in a box that ends up stinking up the joint. And, they are moody. Some cats are like dogs. They are cuddly, sweet, and playful. These cats, I truly enjoy. This is why I have a dog. Dogs are playful and sweet and cuddly and they want to hang out with you. Dogs don't bring in dead vermin and they don't climb on everything in sight.

At least that's what I thought was true of dogs. Then, we got Bayley. Bayley is one of those dogs that thinks she's a cat. She has many dog traits: she cuddles (when she wants to), she plays, and she does her business outside. But, she also does many cat like things. She climbs on tables- all of them, not just some of them. She climbs into the window sills as well. If I put the blinds up, she'll stand in the window sill and look outside. She even climbs on the bricks outside that stick out at the bottom of the window. She chases bugs and she has moments of moodiness.

But, the worst, most cat like thing Bayley ever did happened one morning when I let her outside. She found something truly wonderful and delicious and began playing with it. Bayley loves to eat bark. So, when she came to the door, tail wagging and eyes filled with delight, I assumed she had found a piece of bark that made her day. I opened the door saying, 'hey girl, what did you find?" and then immediately shrieked and slammed the door in my poor dog's face. Much to my dismay, Bayley had a full grown grasshopper in her mouth which she was completely intending to bring inside. I told her to leave that nasty thing outside, so she put it down and sat at the door calmly. I opened the door again and she ran to retrieve her prize and carry it into the house. Only, much to her chagrain, she found the door once again slammed in her face. I began to lecture her through the door as if she could understand me, "you are not bringing that thing in my house. Forget it!" Finally, dejected and sorrowful, Bayley came inside leaving the grasshopper on the porch.

Later in the day, we let Bayley out again. She found her delightful toy and began to play with it. Then, as I stood there watching, things went from bad to worse when she ate that dreaded grasshopper. Yep, she ate it. Legs and wings and all. Gross. Pleased as punch, the dog came back inside and immediately proceeded to burp. Guess it was a tasty meal. All I know is that I did not let that creature's mouth anywhere near me for the next several days. Grasshopper cooties... yuck!