One time when my parents went on a long vacation and asked me to house sit and keep an eye on their two miniature schnauzers, Bonnie and Clyde. Sinceit was going to be an extended time away from home, I decided to just bring my cats, tiny black Tweety and the big tabby Gordo, with me.
Tweety didn’t like the dogs, despite the fact that he grew up around dogs. He evaporated and I barely saw him the entire time I was there. Gordo, on the other hand, was a stubborn beast and wasn’t about to be intimidated.
The first night, Gordo stalked down the stairs and parked himself on one of the dining room chairs, positioned like a lion in repose, gazing over his new domain. His tail gave away his nervousness, shivering and twitching beside him.
On cue, the miniature schnauzers came in through the dog door, skittering across the hardwood floor. They skidded to a halt about twenty feet from the cat, staring at him nervously. They’d never seen a cat before, not in their own house.
Bonnie, always the mastermind and instigator of the two, urged Clyde to investigate. She stayed safely back while Clyde approached cautiously, tail wagging slowly. Clyde extended his neck to try to sniff at Gordo’s foot. In a flash, Gordo hissed at him and punched him repeatedly on the nose—though in Gordo’s defense, he didn’t use his claws.
He didn’t need to. Clyde fled the room, Bonnie hot on his heels. The dogs didn’t try to approach Gordo again.