Listen, Oliver, buddy… I get it. I do. You’re a tough cat. When we met you at the Humane Society, they called you Brute, because you pushed everyone around. After we got you to our house it took you about one day to decide not to take any crap from the dogs. You even took the dog bed from Bailey, and he’s 145 pounds of solid canine. Everything was going great for you – the unchallenged alpha of the local furry set.
And now this.
It’s got to be humiliating, buddy. I know.
Every time you go outside, day or night, he’s there. Yelling at you. Chasing you. Cornering you.
And I know it doesn’t help that I crack up when he has you cornered and you’re meowing to me to let you in. I’m sorry. I really am.
I know your self-esteem is in the…
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