He was supposed to be an indoor cat, but he spent his days plotting and planning how to get out of the house. I came home from work and heard a commotion in the back yard - the kids had this little playhouse/treehouse about four feet off the ground, with steps leading up to it. In the treehouse was a smallish fluffy white dog (looked like an American Eskimo), and at the foot of the steps was Finny, with all his neck fur fluffed up and the hair on his back standing straight up. The dog was literally trembling with anxiety, and every time he put a foot on the steps, the cat would give this huge warning growl and the dog would pull his foot back like it had been burned. I had to pick up the cat and carry him inside, and even then the dog had to be coaxed down with deli turkey . . . "I know he's still here somewhere!"
Another time I came home from work and there were four dogs sitting in the front yard in a circle - a Gordon Setter, a Golden, a Lab and a mutt. And sitting in the circle with them, just like one of the boys, was Finny. It looked like they were holding a business meeting. I rolled down the car window and yelled, "Hey Finny, what are you doing?" The cat got up, shook himself, and strolled to the car - the dogs got up, shook themselves, and walked away. I have NO IDEA what all that was about . . . maybe a truce meeting or a deputation to the Capo di tutti Capi . . .
Oh what wonderful stories. Brought a needed smile to my face.