Carson's Corner | The Carson Report: The cat!

The Carson Report: the cat!

Listen up pups! Today I’m not joking around or having some fun by noticing some of The Master’s many misunderstandings of the canine realm (remind me to tell you the hilarious “he won’t go on the concrete floor at Lowe’s” story some time). It’s all business today. Serious business!

Every day the Master and I travel to his office, a place of tranquility and quiet where he can work and I can get a snooze on. Yet of late this virtual napping nirvana has been dramatically interrupted by the presence of The Enemy.

There is a CAT at at the office!

Okay, so he’s not IN the office. He’s on the grounds, leaving his little calling cards and messing up all the spots I’ve carefully marked as mine. Every day we get to the office and I take my morning constitutional and in no time at all it is apparent: The Enemy has been here again.

Don’t be fooled, pups. Cats are The Enemy. Some people try to hide this truth by posting pics on the Internet of dogs and cats playing together, liking each other, even cuddling. It’s all nonsense. Fake news. Complete hoax. Everyone of those pics is just a vicious Photoshop job done by The Enemy to fool unsuspecting puppies into thinking cats aren’t what they really are: evil wearing fur with four legs and a tail. Cats are horrible. They are worse than horrible. Cats are responsible for global warming, the Patriots winning another Super Bowl, whatever political agenda you wanted advanced that didn’t advance, the high price of movies, pencils that run out of eraser before they run out of lead, and the sad fact that dogs don’t get lunch. You name it, and if it is bad, cats did it, caused it, or are glad it happened.

And we have one of these vile creatures right here where I work! Okay, you got me on that one: where the Master works. I don’t exactly work although I always snooze quite close to his desk in case I’m needed. I want to be ready to spring into action.

Which is exactly what I had to do yesterday. There was action needed and yes, this Scottie dog was springing!

We were headed back inside from my morning walk and business when suddenly, there I spotted The Enemy. He was crouching down behind a tree, as if that meant I couldn’t see him. Oh I see you! My nose saw you fifty feet ago, so nice try but no catnip for you, Mr. Sworn Foe of All That is Good. Then when I began to close the gap, so that my teeth could make short work of this awful intruder, what did he do?

He ran. Like a scaredy cat (ha - see what I did there?).

He darted out from behind his tree and then he arched his back. Now pups, listen carefully: the arched back means nothing. Cats do this to try and make themselves look bigger. They are hopeful it will intimidate you. Mostly it makes them look sillier, as if that is possible. The Enemy got himself all humped up and was hissing away at me. It was a like a fur covered “U” got flipped over and all the air started leaking out of it. Of course, I was not perturbed in the least.

All this time, the Master was whooping and hollering something fierce. It was like the battle scene in Braveheart. He was screaming for me to catch the cat, to close and do battle with The Enemy. I could hear the battle drums beating and the pipes wailing, and so with the blood rushing to my ears I gave the order “CHARGE!” and plunged recklessly and bravely forward.

Then The Enemy did the most cowardly thing possible. Instead of standing his ground and trying to fight it out to (his) demise, he scrambled up a tree.

I ask you: is that fair? Where is the honor in such flagrant cowardice? What am I, a raccoon or opossum? Scottie dogs don’t do trees. And I looked: there was no elevator. So the only thing to do was bark furiously and wait. I advised the Master this siege could take a while (by ignoring all his commands to come inside). He did continue to commend my courage and vigilance but became more insistent that we leave off the pursuit. I responded as Scotties must. I turned my ears completely off, barked some more, and then sat down at the base of the tree. This is proper procedure for siege warfare, pups. Make a note. Not all owners understand this but it is obligatory. Just wait. What goes up must come down and when it does you want to be there to welcome The Enemy back to good ol’ Terra Firma where the Scottish Terrier is in sovereign command and rulership.

I was waiting most pleasantly when finally something far away, a tiny voice that sounded small and weak, began to penetrate my hearing. It was the word “Snack.” Snack, as in snack time?! Yes, the Master was saying it was time for us to have a snack! Well, after such a pitched battle it was obvious to me that refreshments and resupply were in order so I gave The Enemy a parting bark and headed to the office. The Master continued to pour on the praise for driving The Enemy away. I have to confess I was loving every minute of it. I believe a battlefield promotion may even be coming to me. For sure an extra ration of carrots was handed down, and the Black Dog Brigade of the Grand Army of the Office retired comfortably and happily. Oh it’s been an exhilarating day, Scottie friends! I am positive The Enemy will pack his bags and move on after having come so close to having one or more of his nine lives forcibly taken from him. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him around here any more!

And now, a bit of rest so I can be prepared for the next combat action.... I need a nap!

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