Ba-ba-ba-buddy and the Cats

For the past three months, Mookie and FuBu have been trying to acclimate themselves to Buddy's presence in their space.

It hasn't been an easy transition.
Not for cats.
Not for Man!



My cats are born and bred Californians where animals are called "pet companions," the humans they live with are called "pet guardians," and we all live together as one big, happy family. Buddy is from "Get-those-d_mn-cats-off-the-f_cking-table" Land where humans reign supreme and animals stay on the floor.

Buddy has never lived with felines.
He does not understand that they must climb high, like on top of the bookcases, to survey the condo, which, as far as they are concern, is their domain.

He does not understand that any bare flat surface, be it the bed, his desk, or the dining room table is an invitation to Mookie and FuBu to sprawl out and take a nap.
The cats don't understand the declaration: "I'm the man of the house!"

So...Buddy has created a "No Gatos" sign that now hangs on the bedroom door.
He closes the office door tightly to keep Mookie and FuBu out.
He checks under the bed every night to be sure neither one of the furry critters
has snuck in the room under his watch.

Even though the man of the house has redefined my pet companions' territory,
they are all learning how to get along.

He feeds them every morning and they have ceded the table.