Milo: the laborious mastiff
Maxxie: the runty chihuahua
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Milo: So why don’t you just leave the cats alone? They’re not bothering you, man.
Maxxie: I’m a dog. It’s what I’m born to do, dude. Besides, the exercise is good. And scaring the shit out of them is fun.
Milo: You can get your exercise like I do, either running in circles or, less geometrically….running aimlessly.
Maxxie: But you look like an idiot lumbering in circles. It perpetuates the stereotype, “chasing your tail”. You oughta have more respect for what we are, Milo.
Milo: Have you ever even talked to a cat? Or just chased?
Maxxie: Shiiiiiiit!!! I ain’t talking with no cat. There’s a natural hierarchy here, brother. I’m looking to maintain, not destroy. It’s our heritage – our duty – to show them who’s boss. We’re the ones who are smart and loyal and brave, Milo.
Milo: Brave? How?
Maxxie: Dachshunds hunted badgers and everybody knows badgers are mean motherfuckers.
Milo: But you’re not a dachshund. And you’ve never confronted a badger.
Maxxie: I’m talking about we, not me, Milo.
Milo: Your philanthropy and generosity of thought toward others is astounding.
Maxxie: Why you so filled with self-hatred, Milo?
It wasn’t hate that filled Milo. It more like a profound disappointment. And this disappointment wasn’t even direct at himself, it was directed at Maxxie.
There’s an assumption from Maxxie that their place on the hierarchy is above that of the cat. But Milo is well aware that within their – the dogs’ – division, a lot of genital licking and asshole smelling and slobbering and even shit eating takes place, unlike the cats’. For Milo, it makes him unsure of exactly where he fits within the stratum.
Milo: So what you gonna do if one of them cats some day decides to fight instead of run?
Maxxie: Tooth versus claw, motherfucker. I’m ready.
It’s always seemed absurd to Milo that Maxxie is filled with such bravado. If it weren’t for cats and the occasional squirrel or possum, nobody’d be afraid of the rut. And Milo could bite his head off in a single chomp, but out of the same respect and deference he shows the cat, he applies the same to Maxxie by keeping that to himself, like he keeps to himself the silliness of Maxxie’s inane yipping at the cats. Truth be told, one scratch on the nose from some rambunctious feline and Maxxie’d be scurrying under the tool shed.
Milo: I dunno. The cats and possums and squirrels been okay to me.
Maxxie thinks it’s a shame that Milo’s intimidation goes to such waste. But, given his size, Milo’s not intimated by much. Maybe that’s why he stays mostly chill. Plus, the bigger the dog, the greater the laziness is what Maxxie’s accepted.
Maxxie: I’m getting bored. Think I’ll walk around and look for some cats to jack up. You comin’?
Milo declines.
Maxxie: You know what they say about the hunt and the chase, doncha?
Milo: Nah. What?
Maxxie: It’s all about the thrill of the chase.
Milo: That saying applies to chasing pussy.
Maxxie: Yeah.
Milo: I mean the other kinda pussy.
Maxxie heads off to the chase, giving Milo plenty of time to think about that.
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The calico: Ms. Bickles
The tuxedo: Felix
The mouse: unnamed
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Felix: Doll, why don’t you just leave the mice and birds alone? They aren’t hurting anything.
Bickles: I’m a cat. It’s what I’m born to do. Kill mice and birds. Hate dogs. Shit in sand. It’s what we are, whether you accept that or not. Besides, it’s good exercise chasing things to kill them.
Felix: You have all the Tender Vittles you need, gal. Why all the aggression and hostility? Relax.
Bickles: There’s a hierarchy, Felix. A natural order to things. There’s the lowly mouse and idiot dogs that lick their pussies or balls. Cretins and lowlifes, I tell you. I’m simply fulfilling my role in nature. Plus, how can I relax when we’re surround by all these feline hating dogs and mice constantly provoking us?
Felix sighs.
Felix: How bout some licking? Maybe that’ll make you feel better. It’s not weird. We’re cats. We groom each other, naturally. C’mon.
Bickles: Yeah, we groom while dogs smell each other’s assholes and eat each other’s shit. And mice are just filthy vermin.
Felix licks Bickles’ head. Bickles begins to purr. Her paws begin to kneed.
Felix: You ever talk to that mastiff Milo? He seems……different.
The purring and kneeding stop. Of all the dogs in the neighborhood, the mastiff is the biggest and scariest.
Bickles: No. I’m no traitor. The hell with dogs.
Bickles thinks to herself what pacifist cucks these tuxedo cats generally are. If only they had the moxy of the calicos the state of feline-hood wouldn’t be in such pitiful shape.
Just then, a mouse peaks over a mossy log.
Mouse: Cocksuckers!!!!!!
The mouse darts back into the thicket while Bickles gives instinctive chase.
Bickles: Punk-ass rodent!!! You’re about to get fucked up!!!!!
Felix thinks: Silly mouse. Why provoke and risk your life?
Then he thinks: Well, maybe that’s what happens when there’s nothing better to do than eat and shit and fuck and survive. Life’s gotta have some thrills.
So while his partner chases the mouse, Felix decides to go for a leisurely walk and think about things for a few hours since he’s got nothing better to do either.
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