Getting Even

Some nights, the lackey and I are a fluid, eight paws of togetherness. Some nights we ain’t. Take last night as an example of discord. The lackey came home, we had treats, we had scratches, we had dinner, we had a walk. All good. The lackey made a phone call while I got comfy on the big bed. Again, all good. The lackey turned on the computer and turned her back on me. Very not good. I stood on the edge of the bed and popped my front paws up on the back of her chair and licked her neck to get her attention. That worked for a couple of nice scratches and then she turned back to the silly box. Right. This means war. The secret of a master campaign is to lull the enemy into a false sense of security – this works equally well with lackeys and cats.

Battle 1 – the lackey. Lay in wait, let them think you’re being good. Let them do whatever it is that is taking their attention away from you. Let them finish whatever it is and get ready for bed. Pretend to be asleep when they tell you it’s time to go out for a pee. Let them try and get into bed with you solidly unmoving smack bang in the middle of the fluffy covers. Let them start to fall asleep balanced right on the edge of the mattress… and then bounce up to make a big fuss about going out for a pee so that you drag them outside. You don’t need them for anything, you just them to get out of bed and get cold. This also means you have already won and can move on to the next battle.

Battle 2 – the cat. Sometimes cats play a game of chicken. They sit on the corner in their little gangs and hatch plans. Vast, daring, extreme sport type plans that involve high speed and a dog in the dog’s own backyard. This must be stopped at all costs. The most brave (or perhaps most stupid) of cats lives across the road from the blue house. It naps on the front deck where it knows I can’t reach it and then taunts me from the railing. Last night, it tried for the gold medal in the X Games by trying to run through MY yard while I had nice smelly bones to chomp on after the lackey had tried three times to go to bed and my barking had her running out in her jammies to shut me up. Not so extreme you might say, a cat is fast after all and I did have a full belly. Ah yes, I say, but you didn’t hear the stupid bloody bell around it’s suicidal neck. I did. Several times we raced over to the back fence and back at full tilt with that silly tinkling followed by my big girl bark and the lackey hissing – Lucy, shut up and get inside! No. Not while there’s a game of eat-the-cat to be played out. I lost the damn thing in the trees and the dark and went back to my bones and once she saw I was comfortably crunching on them sitting in the courtyard, she went back to bed. Again. This was a ruse to get rid of the lackey and go back to chasing the cat and barking. Apparently, the lackey doesn’t like barking after bedtime. Who knew. I soon worked out that the suicidal cat was trying for my bones. Not. Going. To happen. So I buried them. Once all of them were safely hidden away, the cat got bored and went home so I went into bed. Cat nil, Lucy 4.

Battle 1 part 2 – after burying your bones, do not rub your nose and paws clean in the grass, do it on the doggy cover on the big bed. The lackey was furious and wide awake in the small dark, I was triumphant and happy.

Now all that was left to do was to turn in circles the required three times widdershins and go to sleep to the victory lullaby of the lackey calling me an inconsiderate cow. And I did let the I’ve-been-evil snuffle rise as I nodded off.