Fat 'n' Furry

No, I’m not talking about anyone we know – tempting as that may be – I’m talking about my dog’s new best friend.

That’s great, I hear you say, you only moved in a few weeks ago and already Chloe is elbowing her way into the local canine social scene. Sadly, it’s not that simple. Oh this friend is of the furry domesticated variety alright, but sadly it’s not another German Shepherd, nor a Spaniel….it’s not even one of those new fangled pocket-sized Hollywood monstrosities small enough to fit into the ashtray of Paris Hilton’s Escalade.

No no…..Fat ‘n’ Furry is a cat. A black, long-haired cat.

Yes Chloe….Flayer of felines….Killer of kitties…..Tormentor of tabbies, has fallen head over heels in love with a cat.

The first few seconds of their initial encounter were predictable enough. Dog spotted cat – cat spotted dog - dog took off towards the cat like a bat-out-of-hell, trailing 3 feet of snarl induced drool behind her. Now remember at this point Chloe is moving like a newly launched Amram missile, albeit NOT launched by George Bush and therefore ON target, so by the time she realises that the cat has not so much as twitched a single whisker in fear of the oncoming attack it’s already too late. Chloe had no choice but to execute the “Scooby-Doo” stopping manoeuvre – you know the one, legs peddling backwards, ass on the ground….a Bambi on ice kinda thing.

In a flurry of shed fur and newly mown grass clippings she ground to a halt just inches from the impervious feline who still has not flinched, hissed or opted for the “Look-at-me-I’m-actually-three-times-bigger-than-you-thought-I-was” stance.

At this point the cat stretched, took two paces forward, and rubbed itself along Chloe’s flanks….purring with ill concealed pleasure.

And Chloe let it.

It licked her nose and stared lovingly into her (by this time completely bemused) eyes.

And Chloe let it.

Now here we are a couple of weeks later and they have developed a close (and if you ask me, unholy) alliance – along with a strange affinity for sniffing each-other’s butts! We don’t know the name of the cat, so we call it Fat ‘n’ Furry. We don’t know the sex so we refer to it as He.

He waits on the drive each morning to greet Chloe as she leaves for her morning constitutional. He’s now allowed into the garden to bask in the spring sunshine, and I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before it discovers the cat-flap left by the previous house owners….and the bowl of dog food which lies beyond. And you know what……….??

Chloe will let him!