The “others” living in my house

23 Jul

Tom and his son, D, are not the only people that live with me.  While not human, the critters of the house are considered nothing but part of the family, so when people ask me how many are we… I tend to automatically respond seven.  And when people give me the crazy look, I clarify by naming them off.

Me, Tom, D, the cats, Moha and Cleo (my contribution) and the dogs, Rufus and Maggie (his contribution).

One happily crazy blended family we are!

The critter keeps us on our toes, and they are totally our daily comical dosage. They all have their personalities and in this new house, they tend to interact with each other more than the other house, so this means that we get to witness a lot of shit that makes us laugh our heads off.

Meet the pack:

The comidians in the house

The comidians in the house

Like all houses with animals, they have created a pecking order of sort. Originally I thought this would go to the older animal, which would be Maggie, our pretty girl, lab/collie mix – she is the oldest of the butch and I figure that she would command the more respect. Wrong.  Maggie is a gentle soul. Tom got her when he bought his old home. The previous owners had rescued her from the neighborhood and did not want to take her with them, so she was offered to Tom – he, being a big sap when it comes to animals could not say no. She has a history – mainly lived on the street and took care of  herself for god-knows how long, probably went hungry many times and was abused by kids. (She is guarded around kids and tends to get very nervous around them) She is the sweetest dog you could ever meet.  She communicates with her eyes. She can totally give you a look and you know right away what she is asking for.

She is a finicky eater, but loves people food and is always underfoot while I’m in the kitchen cooking (I call her the vacum cleaner, since any crumb, or piece of food that falls on the floor she gobles it up) She loves her stuffed toy and would fight you to death for it (she is not a good “catch” dog – I don’t think she understand the concept). She also very sneaky, she likes to sleep on top of things – my chair, the sofa, the loveseat, D’s bed – She basically hates the floor.  She loves dog cookies and all it takes is a simple whisper of the word, that she is running straight to the kitchen for you to give her one.  She hates baths, but loves to play with the hose. She is the most humble of the pack, I guess she is ever so grateful for having a roof over her head and food in her belly and lots of people that love her – I cannot lied, I fell in love with her on the spot after meeting her.

Turns out, that Mocha, the youngest of the lot is the “BOSS”. And when I mean the “boss” she means business. No messing with her, she takes on Rufus, the 150 pound Bull Mastiff, and with a quick and simple hiss, she has him cowering behind Tom looking all scare and shit (that dog has not spine, I tell you). Mocha is your typical stereotype mix cat.  She has been with me for well over 9 years and she use to be a stray cat.  She is the most shy of the bunch, and tends to keep mostly to herself. She comes to you when she wants, she is not a lap cat (even thought she has on rare occasions done just that, mainly to take a long snoozes) She loves to play with furry toys, has no desired to run around chasing the laser pointer and hates catnip (yeah I KNOW – CRAZY!). Her favorite hiding place is in the deepest part of the closet and loves to sleep on top of my most expensive shoes (she is classy!). Since I had her, I have lost her twice, and both time she has found her way back home (after 2-3 nights of doing god-knows-what around the neighborhood) – I call her my rebellious child, because she does not know how to obey, follows her own rules and has given me bits of heart attacks with her tactics.

Cleo is the other cat and she is next in line, as the “older” cat.   I had her for 10 years and she was given to me by my sister in a fit of hysterics, when my sister’s dog caught her in his mouth and almost killed her.  Between her and Mocha, she is boss – funny how that happens right? Cleo is the keeper of my heart, she is the most verbal of the bunch, and I swear that when I speak with her she responds and I totally understand her. She is the most adventurous of all, and is fierce when it comes to hogging my time. If I’m reading, she will mossy over and want to sit on the book, or stand in front of the TV… all her planned tactics in order for me to scratch her until she is purring like a well oil engine.  She usually puts Mocha in her place and unlike Mocha, loves to sit and see out the window for hours.  LOVES catnip and seriously gets high and crazy on the stuff.  The laser pointer and her are the best of friends and her cat naps are so delicious that I covet them.

Then we come to the younger child of the bunch…

Rufus. I call him the BIG baby – literally “BIG” is the word here. He is a 3 year old  Bull Mastiff who weights more than me, and is totally a confuse dog.   He is our trouble child.  He still thinks like a puppy.  Thus he acts like one.  He does not listen to anything that we say (Tom will disagree, saying that the dog listen to him – he is totally delusional – Tom, not the dog). His size makes everything difficult, because his presence is EVERYWHERE “IN YOUR FACE”.  He is the most jealous of the bunch.  If you even so much divert some sort of attention to one of the other’s, he  immediately springs into action from wherever he was and converts himself into the best linemen – blocking you from doing anything to the other animal, and wants you to choose him instead.  He is also the most funny of the bunch.  His lack of coordination due to giant size and his inability in dealing with that considerable size make for humorous moments.

We have laminate floors, which translate into major lack of traction – hence is knack for constantly sliding into things, falling over himself, plucking down hard on the floor – a TOTAL DOG KLUTZ (sort of like his owner). Many of time he has tumble down the stairs to the dismay of both Tom and me. “He is totally going to break a leg!” I have yelled to Tom many of times since we have moved in. The dog continues to go up and down the stairs, in total oblivion of the possible outcome of his actions – a TOTAL STUPID DOG (if you ask me).  The other day someone happened to be walking by the front of the house, on the sidewalk… he apparently wanted to serve and protect, he ran, lost traction, and could not stop his momentum, thus sliding across the floor, towards the front door, ending by slamming face first into the door (THE GLASS DOOR!).  I was sitting watching TV and witness this with front seating view, before I burst into gales of laughter, he gave me the “THAT! TOTALLY DID NOT HAPPENED” look and went merrily on his way to pluck down and lick, noisily at his balls.  Folks, we have a comedian in our mist.

And while I grumble about the messes, the hair (Oh MY SWEET GOD – THE HAIR!) all over the place, and the price of DOG/CAT FOOD! And the meds and the never ending baths.  I know that I would not be able to live without each one of them.

Thanks for making it crazy guys – we would not have it any other way.


2 Responses to “The “others” living in my house”

  1. Betty August 18, 2009 at 10:55 am #

    I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don’t know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.



  1. To win the war, you must strong, steadfast and finally cut off the balls « MACA's WORLD - February 9, 2010

    […] the boyfriend (Tom) and his two dogs (Maggie and the dumb dog Rufus). I wrote about them before here and […]

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