Stories of the Moose
Bouncy Pomeranian Pooch
It just bounced, and bounced, and bounced. Right into the Moose.
Aisly, my live in girlfriend at the time, was really missing her two kitty monsters back at her old place. We'd visit quite often, but she missed having someone of her own to torture, uh, pamper. She loved the Moose, but Moose was definitely my cat and would not share humans too much.
Aisly asked if she could get a puppy. At first, I said "Hell no," knowing that Moose would feel betrayed. I had tried to bring in another cat when I was still in Florida as a companion to Moose, she would have none of it. She chased that poor guy under the bed and hissed at him for 24 hours straight. The little guy went back to the UWFSHA cattery, and I spent the next couple of weeks bowing and scraping before the Moose to win her forgiveness. She shared the household (and me) with no one. How dare I!
We even gave one of Aisly's cats a try, but I knew what was coming. I thought perhaps Moose would have changed in her old age, but no, she was just as adamant that no cat infect her perfect home. She liked having a second human around: more humans means more chance of a double cheeseburger appearing.
I finally said "OK" to the doggie idea and we headed to the local humane association looking for a pooch. Nothing that we thought would not rip Moose into shreds. We ended up at the mall at a pet store. I normally do not go into pet stores, but this one seemed OK. We found a Pug (one of Aisly's top picks) but I wasn't in love. Then we found a Pomeranian. I don't think I had ever seen a cuter doggie.
After a few minutes with the Pomeranian, she had suckered me completely. I was in love with that little dog. I took the deep breath, laid out a tremendous amount of cash, and we had ourselves a dog. On the way back, I could not believe what I had done. I was now going to live with a dog (a first for me) and I had bought a pet (rather than adopt from a shelter, something I swore I'd never do). About halfway home, I felt the mood change, like I had made a terrible mistake. Later, Aisly told me the same thing, but didn't want to hurt my feelings.
We get the little tyke home and sat in the car for a while. How were we going to introduce the Moose to her new victim, uh, roommate? I went upstairs and made sure Moose was in the living room while Aisly led the Pom up the stairs. When the dog peeked her head around the corner, Moose instantly perked her ears, shot her whiskers forward, and gave dirty stabbing looks at this filthy creature.
Moose behaved pretty well, better than we had thought and kept her distance. Perhaps this was going to work out after all. The Pom was happy to be in a warm home and bounced all over the place, as they do. That dog bounced and yipped for about 30 minutes without stopping. Moose and I sat in one corner of the room wondering when this damned thing would stop bouncing and yipping. "Oh my, how many years of this am I going to be stuck with?" I thought to myself.
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, that damned dog would not stop bouncing. Moose was still in a bit of shock and kept her distance. She wanted nothing to do with this bouncy furball. The Pom was bouncing dangerously close to Moose. I could see Moose thinking, "Don't you dare touch me." And then she bounced right into the Moose.
SMACK! Moose growled (the first I had heard in years) and knocked that poor Pom across floor. Moose bolted upstairs. "It touched me," she complained. The Pom squeaked and ran under the coffee table, wondering what she had done wrong. Everyone loves the bouncy pooch, right?
At that moment, I knew there would be no peace in the house. The Pom had developed some disturbing behavior over the course of the evening. She had become ultra possessive of Aisly, and I could not approach either of them without growls and barks. Oh boy. We crated the dog for the night, howling at the top of her tiny lungs, and we knew she had to go back.
Meanwhile, Moose was upstairs on the bed, a tiny thundercloud churning over her head. We did our best to console the Moose that she was not being replaced, but to no avail. As a final act of disgust, Moose looked right as us (me more than anything) and pissed on Aisly's down comforter. Got up, skulked away into the office, clearly she had made her point.
The Moose was not to be trifled with. And sure as Hell not bounced into. Ever.