Yesterday was incredibly humid. It was also rather sunny , not good for black furred animals like George and Albert.
Fuses are cut rather short when it's sticky and oppressive
For months now, Mary has taken every opportunity to goad Albert.
A cold nose up the arsehole at every opportunity
A sharp bark when the boy is sitting peacefully on the bedroom window ledge
It is the challenge adolescent dogs delight in when the victim is smaller and different.
Yesterday, as Albert sauntered into the cottage in order to find a cool corner he stopped briefly to rub heads with his best mate Winnie. (Head rubbing, for those that don't know, is a feline gesture of welcome.)
The ever alert Mary, grabbed her chance.
She shot out of her hiding place from under the kitchen table and in one long " sweep" gave Albert's bumhole a massive and rather over saturated lick.
It was the lick that broke the camel's back.
Albert lost it.
He growled like a tiger and lifted himself onto his tiptoes with his back arched like a bow and when finally Mary bolted for the safety of the staircase he shot after her like Bagheera from The Jungle Book.
Albert caught Mary in our bedroom and by the sound of the howls he must have given her a sound and long overdue thrashing.
I left him to it.
The tail swishing and dark mood lasted all day , I am afraid, and even this morning ( nearly 24 hours since the final bumhole lick was administered) Albert is still looked rather wide eyed and bad tempered when Mary is in his vicinity.
I snapped the above photo just a few minutes ago as Mary prudently sat under my armpit, on the arm of the chair.
Albert in full growl!
Hell hath no fury like a goggle-eyed black cat scorned