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Don't Call Me Kevie

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The Two Faces Of Owen.
Cat attack
I've talked about my cat Owen here before. He's the cat that makes shadow puppets look like Arnie and Bruce Willis rolled into one. He's afraid of curtains. The neighbour got some kittens, and I have to run outside and scare them away because kittens that are smaller than half a shoe have him backed into a corner and he cannot do anything but cry.

He is, quite frankly, a wuss.

Over the last three months, the mets at work has been coming in, and telling everyone about this huge, muscley, gotta-be-on-steriods ginger cat that has been bullying their two female cats. It's become the daily story everyone wants to hear about; what's the steriod bully been up to now?? He's been breaking into their house, and standing his ground in their living room and even using a broom does nothing to break this cat. He is, in their words, evil. Their cleaner tells them what a bully he is, and everyone has been trying to come up with ways to deal with it.

Last week was the Australian finale of "So You Think You Can Dance." (For the record, my dancing boyfriend won. I was very very happy.) The mets and I have been fans of this show, and since I didn't have to go to work Monday, I told them to come around and we'd have a mini Dance party and watch the show together. It was a grand plan, and as Nat was coming back from a holiday in Tasmania, she'd arrive later, and Jen would rock up about 7pm. I'd already locked the boys inside, so I wouldn't have to go looking for them later that night. Jen rocked up, came inside and just stopped in her tracks.

"It's him. The steriod cat."

In the middle of the living room Owen was sitting there cleaning himself. When she started to speak he stopped and stared at her.

And that was when I knew. He WAS the steriod bully. Owen, if he can help it and in this case he certainly could, will run crying from rooms whenever someone who is not me walks in. But with Jen, he just sat and stared. And the calmly walked over to his favourite chair, sat in it, and stared some more. And it wasn't just a "Oh, someone's here" stare. It was more of a "This is my house, bitch. Walk away and no one gets hurt."

I was mortified. I let the boys run free during the day, but I always lock them in at night. And I've been listening to the stories about Steriod Cat and judging the owner terribly, wondering how someone can let their cat run free terrorising people like that. Nat showed up a bit later, and when she saw Owen she also stopped and gaped. And once again he did not run terrified. He just stared.

Now, this probably doesn't sound like much, but Jen and Nat live about 1 kilometre from me (1.6miles for those without metric). All this time I've been fretting because he can't keep the weight on, he's been becoming a lean muscley machine. Now that everyone knows it's him, and he's mine, they've stopped calling him "Steriod Cat" and he's now known as "Marathon Man Cat". One morning, I let him out before I went to work at 5am, by 530am he was at Nat and Jen's house and was sitting in their living room. Jen yelled - "Owen, go away!!" and he went.

Whenever I look at him, I find myself asking "Who are you??" And now that he knows I know his double life he's started standing his ground with the next door kitties. He, my curtain fearing wuss-bag, has become a Man. Or cat. Something like that. I wonder what else he has been hiding from me??

While he was a bully, he never hurt the girl cats. We secretly suspect that - despite all cats involved having had 'reproductive surgery' - one of the girls, most likely Maddy according to Jen was his girlfriend

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That is quite an impressive double life!

I was shocked by his double life. If there was some way, I'd love to get him connected to a GPS or a tracker, so I could find out just how far exactly he roams. The secret lives of animals are fascinating once they're not so secret

Are you familiar with this? ;-)

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