I’ll be a Cat’s Uncle!

Look What the Cat Dragged In

If you have an outdoor cat, you’ve probably experienced your pet bringing animals home; like mice, birds, snakes and so forth.

Why does this happen? Most likely it’s because your cat is using its hunting instinct to catch prey and bring it to a safe place to consume. Lucky you, that’s your home.

Sometimes your feline will bring a live animal back to play with, and other times, returning with animal, dead or alive, is a gift from Whiskers to you.

The last thing TikTok user AmayaSO thought her cat would do is bring back a dog, but that’s exactly what happened. The dog, it turns out, was a very much alive puppy.

“I literally thought the dog was a huge rat because the cat was carrying it in his mouth,” AmayaSO posted.

If you guessed the dog is a chihuahua, you’re correct.

The dognapping by a cat named BC was a head-scratcher. The cat hadn’t asked for a puppy, so it appears BC was proactive in making his wish come true. Before deciding to keep the dog, AmayaSO set out to find where it may have been pilfered.

“We went walking around and found out where he came from,” AmayaSo wrote. “Long story short he now belongs to our Family. My niece named him Peco. He chose his home, or at least our cat BC chose his home for him.”

Now BC has a play pal and the cat and dog appear to enjoy each other’s company.


Reply to @rosemary1915 Update….. We went walking around and found out where he came from. long story short he now belongs to our Family. my niece named him Peco. He chose his home. or at least our cat BC chose his home for him. šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚ #fyp #surprise

ā™¬ You’ve Got a Friend in Me – From “Toy Story”/Soundtrack Version – Randy Newman

Chester was not amused by the videos.

“What sane cat would bring a living dog home,” our feline said in disgust. “Unless you’re planning to have hot dogs for a barbecue, this shouldn’t happen.”

“There are a ton of examples of cats and dogs living peacefully under one roof,” I told our ticked off tabby. “Just because you are prejudiced against dogs doesn’t mean other cats have to think like you do.”

“OK, but that’s a decision made by the humans to show how they should win the Nobel Peace Prize,” Chester scoffed. “‘See, look what I did. I’ve brought nature’s mortal enemies together and we’re all getting along just fine. I humbly accept this prestigious award’ those humans would say. Makes me want to cough up a giant fur ball.

“If I were that BC, I’d only bring back the dog if it wasn’t breathing and then I’d take a selfie with it to show all my cat friends,” Chester said in a sinister voice.

An image you’ll never see in our home, a dog and cat living in harmony.

I let Chester have his little hunting fantasy because I know he’s scared of everything, including other cats. We’ve had people bring their dogs to the house and Chester sets a land speed record for running up the stairs when they arrive. He just likes to pretend he’s a killer cat.

“OK terminator, what would you do if we decided to get a dog,” I asked Chester, whose eyes suddenly got very large.

“Hold on,” Chester shouted. “You’re not going to do that, are you?”

“I’ll repeat the question. What would you do if we got a dog,” I asked.

Now the tough guy cat wasn’t acting so tough. In fact, I could detect a small tremor going through his body. This idea clearly had never entered his brain.

“I’d call the ASPCA and tell them a cat is being abused at this address or put an ad in Craigslist for a free puppy,” Chester said as he became more composed now that he had ideas on how to counter the introduction of a canine into his domicile.

“It was just a question. We’re not getting a dog,” I said, much to Chester’s relief.

My relief too, because I knew our cunning cat would do just as he said. Being passive-aggressive is Chester’s MO and his working the phone and internet are two things he does superbly.

“It’s dinner time cat. What would you like,” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Kibble,” Chester said.

“How about a Hot Dog?”


“Corn Dog?”


“Puka Dog?”

“Claws are out, funny man,” Chester said.

“Kibble,” I agreed, averting a war.

That’s the type of thing I should win a Noble Peace Prize for.

Gaze and Confused

If Chester thought it wasn’t normal for cats and dogs to get along, then he was definitely going to cough up the fur ball he previously mentioned by what I showed him next.

Whenever you see several raccoons hanging out, what do you call them? Possible answers are a gang of thieves, menacing marauders or bandits. The actual term is gaze, but for anyone who has trash cans they put outside, these critters are better known as dumpster divers.

Where you and I might prefer to feast alfresco at our favorite restaurant, raccoons enjoy fine dining at any trash can or dumpster they can get into. There they will find a smorgasbord of delicacies where the menu is constantly changing.

So, when a woman who goes by the TikTok handle, nicoles_garbage_goblins, approached a dumpster to record a raccoon or two, she was stunned to see they were joined by a kitten.

Upon seeing the human, the cat freaked out and ran around in circles while the trash pandas just stared at the camera. Eventually the kitten huddles in a corner with one of the raccoons before hesitantly coming forward.

After cleaning up Chester’s very large fur ball, the tabby offered his theory on what he’d just seen.

“Even though it’s only a kitten, no doubt that youngster has become the leader of the pack,” Chester said.

“What makes you think that,” I asked my Jane Goodall of a cat.

“Those beady-eyed varmints look like they want to protect the kitten, just like the Secret Service does for the President,” Chester deduced. “The little guy clearly has some cult-like dominance over the raccoons and unlike dogs, raccoons are smart, so there must be some truth to that.”

“Cult-like,” I asked.

“How else can you explain a tiny little creature, surrounded by several members of a cunning species and not get eaten unless you’re viewed as a cult leader,” Chester surmised.

nicoles_garbage_goblins assured her concerned followers that all the raccoons and the kitten eventually got out of the dumpster.

“Why would these raccoons look at the kitten as a cult leader,” I challenged the talkative tabby.

“This cat must be the Rasputin of Rubbish,” Chester declared. “I know raccoons are famous for sniffing out good eats, but look at the cornucopia of food in that dumpster. Clearly the cat led them to the promised land of top-shelf trash dining and you can bet your last piece of kibble this isn’t the first time.”

“This reminds me of the good old days when cats were worshiped as gods by the Egyptians,” Chester said nostalgically. “If they haven’t done so already, you can be sure those grateful creatures have erected a temple to worship that kitten.”

Raccoons worshipping the kitten god, Bringer of Dumpster Delicacies, at an unidentified forest shrine.

“With a big statue of the cat, like the one you had commissioned for yourself,” I said, playing along with Chester’s theory.

“Exactly,” Chester said proudly, as if the trash cat was his own deity.

“Did you ever hang out with raccoons,” I quizzed my cat.

“Nah,” Chester said. “I wasn’t going into any dumpster or trash can. I have higher standards. They’re just too dirty and besides, if I was desperate for food, I’d just play the cute cat con on some human sucker and get a meal out of it.”

“Like you do with our family,” I shot back.

“No comment.” Chester said sheepishly.

“If you were going to lead a group of animals, what species would that be,” I asked out of curiosity.

“I’ll stick to my own kind,” Chester said. “Leading a clowder of cats would be the best. We’re smart, clean, independent, great hunters, and we sleep a lot, so my gang would be low maintenance. All attributes dogs could never attain.”

“Some of those attributes you don’t have either,” I reminded my timid tabby.

“That’s why I’d be a great leader,” Chester said in a scholarly manner. “I’d have my gang handle the tough stuff. “

“So, you would be their cult leader,” I asked.

“Absolutely,” Chester said excitedly.

Chester Maximus, ruler of all cats; at least that’s how he sees it.

“And they would build you a shrine,” I followed up with my narcissistic pet.

“No, that wouldn’t happen,” Chester said matter-of-factly. “Cats don’t build stuff. We let other species do that for us. You humans are example one.”

“Good point,” I concurred. “And is there anything I can build you right now?”

“Yeah, a big bowl of kibble,” was Chester’s quick reply.

“As you command my cultish cat,” I said in a most deferential tone. “But the only reason I’ll do that is because it’s your dinner time.”

“And since I’ve anointed myself as a cult leader, I demand dinner time is all day,” Chester mandated.

“Sorry pal, but you said you were the leader of a clowder of cats, not a group of people,” I countered as if I’d just caught a person on the witness stand in a big lie.

All I got out of Chester was a grumpy cat look. That didn’t stop him from hoovering his kibble and falling asleep.

Sweet dreams, ruler of all cats.

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