Peanut is in charge. She has been since she was, oh, nine months old or so. She's, by far, the smallest cat in the house (a slender 8lbs or so while Puufy clocks in at around 24 and Abbie about 17). She's light, she's limber, she's very, very sweet.
But no one messes with Peanut. Maybe she's a ninja, I dunno, but I have seen her drop out of trees with a bird in her mouth, so she's super good at that, at least. And if Abbie or Puufy piss her off for whatever reason, she'll flip around and bat at them (looks gentle and playful to me) and they BACK THE HELL OFF RIGHT AWAY with much subordinate posturing.
The pecking order is well established, everyone is cool with it, and all is peaceful in our house of cats.
Enter Dr. Boyfriend, the neighborhood stray tom.
Anyway, Dr. Boyfriend is homeless and hungry and, well, we're cat people who feed him and have on more than one occasion taken him in to give him a safe, warm place to heal after getting his ass handed to him by some other critter. He's reasonably friendly, cuddly, and all that, he just wants his freedom, by golly! Gotta woo the babes, don'tcha know?
But poor Dr. Boyfriend is rather small. Here he is with Peanut who is 'regular cat sized' instead of the super jumbo economy sized Abbie and Puufy.
|Uh huh. You're not fooling anyone, Dr. Boyfriend!|
Today, he has decided to take on Peanut. Who seems to find this humorous.
He is literally about half her length and, standing up, the top of his head barely reaches her shoulder. He's heavy and solid, but not very big. No wonder he gets his ass kicked a lot. ;)
She has spent the past half hour or so allowing him to sneak up on her, then she'll glance over her shoulder and give him a look as if to say, ''Seriously, dude? Are you really that stupid?" Then he'll flop onto the ground and chirp and roll to show that it's all play, really, until she turns away and he starts stalking her again.
|I shall hide behind this anthill and grass for a few minutes |
to give you a sense of safety, Dr. Boyfriend! Bwahaha!