Our new house is set up in such a way that the animals are naturally segregated. The dogs have the upstairs living spaces and the cats have the entire downstairs as well as my office upstairs. For two months, there has been virtual peace between the felines and the canines. That is, until about a week ago when Payton decided that, being the first born, no space in this house should be off limits to him. So, with a crash of the hallway door, he made his entrance into the living room....dogs be damned.
*Cue the Twisted Sister music* We're not gonna to take it. No, we ain't gonna take it..."
Both inspecting the ground looking for crumbs.
Since Payton made his stand, he's come to join the rest of the family at dinner every night. He'll casually saunter into the kitchen and as soon as Nona scrambles to her feet to intercede, he shoots lightning bolts at her from his one good eye. Strangely enough, she stands down. Payton thinks it's because he's the "Top Dog," but really I think it's because she can feel violence emanating from me at the first sign that she's going to molest Payton. He's old, he has a bionic eye and his nickname is Fatimus Maximus...hasn't he suffered enough?
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