Monday, November 17, 2003

Oliver Met Dollie

It's the start of another week. Way too much to do and not nearly enough time in the day to do it! Just gotta do what can be done.

My life seems to revolve around work (ack! there's that "w" word again - the very worst of four-letter words) and the computer - with the TV thrown in occasionally. Dollie and Oliver would agree that I don't pay them enough attention. Especially when it comes to feeding and cleaning the litter box. Speaking of which....

Okay. That's taken care of. I remember saying that I would tell you about the first time Dollie and Oliver met. I had gotten Dollie as a kitten. I had another cat at the time, Shadow. Shadow lived about another year (died at age 18) and then it was just me and Dollie for about a year. Dale moved in with us in May and in July, we were offered another cat - Oliver. Oliver had been neutered and declawed; Dollie was neither. I had been worried about Dollie getting out of the house and finding herself with a litter to take care of, so I decided that it was time to take care of that problem. And, since Oliver had no front claws, I thought it unfair for Dollie to have hers. So, Miss Dollie went to the vet and Oliver came home.

The vet said that Dollie should be kept from any other pets when she came home, so she and Oliver were kept in separate rooms. When one come out, the other was locked up. Finally came the day that they met. We put them in separate carriers face to face. Not a pretty sight. Hissing and spitting! Then, we decided to try them on harness and leash. What made us think that would be better than having them caged, I have no idea! Talk about a cat fight! It was a blur of colors and fur. Dale tried to separate them and got a nasty bite from it. Eventually they declared a truce and for the most part get along. Every once in awhile, Mr. Oliver decides that he has to prove he's the alpha cat and tries to stare down Miss Dollie. She just stares back. Oliver either backs down, or they bat paws a few times then Oliver walks away. Feeling victorius, I'm sure, from the swagger. Dollie watches him walk away as if to say, "oh, please."

To this very day, Oliver thinks he was the first cat in the house and Dollie knows she was. It was funny, neither seemed to realize another cat was in the house. At least they never sniffed around doors, never sniffed at anything for that matter.

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