Write As Usual

These stories are from my personal collection of meaningless ramblings...

The Caesar Files:
There's no telling what the world's most adorable dog will do next... 

It started out much like any other normal night in our house. My honey was settled in for a long night of snoring, snuffling, moaning, groaning and all the other nighttime melodies I'm routinely subjected to, (but I digress) when a certain feline and his canine brother decided that sleeping was the last thing on their agendas. 
 
Julius, the 8-year-old finicky kitty has absolutely no tolerance for his 2 year old brother Caesar. Before you assign Julius to the typical persnickety cat category, let me explain a bit about good old Caesar. Our beloved pooch happens to be an incredibly large half Saint Bernard half Newfoundland; to a cat, or pretty much everyone else, he’s the equivalent of Godzilla on steroids. Now, this doesn't mean Caesar doesn't have good intentions, he definitely does, at least that's what his big brown eyes say when they look at me as if to say “But Ma, I just wanted to play!”. But his delivery does need quite a bit of work.
 
As I mentioned, Julius doesn't really have much time for the likes of Caesar and his sloppy shenanigans. There are many more important catlike activities to participate in throughout the day rather than be a playtoy for some overgrown oaf who smells suspiciously like <gasp> dog. Julius was also here first, in the animal world that's as good as having your name right there on the mortgage. When the aforementioned oaf entered the scene, Julius had already grown comfortable in his role as the home’s One And Only Family Member From The Animal Kingdom and saw no need to welcome any newcomers, and certainly none of the canine variety. Caesar, on the other hand, had different plans. 
 
Coming from a litter of eleven, little Caesar was eager to make friends with his new sibling, even though it was apparent this one was a bit different from the ten others he was used to frolicking with. A bit standoffish, a tad more vertically challenged than his previous littermates and this one certainly possessed a weaker sense of humor. But none of these obstacles seemed to give Caesar pause, he was determined for this creature to like him, whatever it took. The following is just one example of Caesar's quest for the acceptance, or at the very least acknowledgement, from his brother Julius.
 
Like I said, it was a normal night and everyone was already in bed ready to drift away peacefully to dreamland, everyone but the fearsome duo of Julius and Caesar. The former was determined to sleep on the bed, and the latter was manning his post at the foot of the bed, ready to give chase if any suspicious feline activity arose. It just so happens that my dear man is allergic to pet dander, therefore the bed should be off limits to anyone with more than two unshaven legs. Julius has no idea how many legs he has, and doesn't feel he was properly informed of this rule before his tenure here, therefore he leaps onto the bed whenever the urge strikes him. My role is to act as the bed goalie. I put him back into play every time he joins us up there.  On any given night this may range from a few to several dozen times. And of course Caesar keeps a diligent watch in case his services are ever needed.  Now on this particular evening, it was nearing midnight and I was anxious for the sleeping portion of the night to commence. I also didn't want anyone getting into trouble with Daddy, especially not at this hour on a work night. Besides, I was much too tired to play referee in the bi-weekly Fur Bowl. Dogs and cats have no use for time keeping devices and apparently aren't overly concerned with the hour so they obviously thought this was a perfectly opportune time to play Let’s Make A Ruckus. 

Now, Julius had one of two choices, either Curtain Number 1 - continue to be removed from the bed and face what lurked below, or Curtain Number 2 – leap off the bed on his own and face what lurked below. Either way, his brother was ready and waiting. After repeatedly choosing Curtain Number 1, I decided to end the game and actually take Julius downstairs myself to introduce him yet again to the couch, a very suitable sleeping arena for felines.  There was only one flaw in my plan, Godzilla was still waiting for the next bus out of Tokyo. The moment I had Julius in my arms Caesar saw this as his cue to join in on the fun. With the beast sniffing around his nether region like a giant mutated pig searching for a lost truffle, Julius began to get antsy and proceeded to let out an operatic-like wail that would have woken, if not at least startled, the dead. This of course only encouraged Caesar to try harder at inserting his nose into any of Julius's orifices. With a tail the size of a boat rudder thumping around the room, inevitably objects began flying off dressers adding to the cacophony. And we all know how much cats enjoy sudden noises. 

At this point Julius is figuring if he digs his back claws into my flesh deep enough I will release him and Caesar will simply go away and vanish into the night. Silly feline. Tricks are for oafs. I continued to try to make it to the doorway with the cat still digging into my side apparently searching in earnest for a kidney or something. Of course before I made it to the actual exit, Julius, in a grand leap of faith, propels himself from my arms, over the bed and toward the stairs. One lesson Julius and I learned in the midst of this -- just because you're bigger doesn't necessarily mean you’re slower. In one swift movement Caesar lowered his hulking form onto Julius who was peering out underneath him wild-eyed and visibly, shall we say, annoyed. To the dog’s credit, he enveloped Julius in such a way as not to hurt him, but rather to keep him close to his heart. Aww, how sweet. And unfortunately, close to his drooling mouth. We also know how much kitties love water, especially thickened “water” that drips unusually slow from a gaping maw in the center of a dog face. Naturally I was concerned to see one of my sons underneath the other, especially since the one was outweighed by well over 100 pounds, and like I said, it was much too late for a cage match in the middle of the bedroom. I knew there was no way to get Caesar off of Julius since Caesar has a hard time following directions unless of course you have an object from one of the four food groups dangling from your hand at the time. So I did the only other thing I could, I whispered very loudly and commanded the dog to release the cat immediately. I was met with a blank stare and the boat rudder tail thumping wildly off the wall with muffled meows coming from somewhere in the middle of 150 plus pounds of black and white fur. 

Now, I knew Caesar would never intentionally hurt his brother, but it had to be at least getting hot under there and I knew tempers were flaring. Julius, being the ever resourceful cat he is, now started to wiggle his way out from under an elbow slowly but surely, Caesar of course just crouched down a bit further to prevent the final escape. I had no other choice at this point but to yell his name loudly enough to alert everyone within a three-mile radius. My sleeping husband included.

At the sound of the word CAESAR piercing the night like a foghorn, my poor oblivious mate bolted into the upright position faster than you can say Cerebral Vascular Accident and uncannily resembled a very large deer in headlights. As amusing as this sight was, I had to focus on the task at hand, removing the dog from the cat and removing them both from the room before someone got themselves into serious trouble. By the time he realized the bedroom was not under attack by alien forces Julius and Caesar were both long gone. So like the cheese, there I stood alone. Left standing in the middle of the darkened bedroom, after just screaming as if I were on a roller coaster, with him waiting for me to explain myself and looking like I’d finally gone insane. 

I think I just might have.