Dog Versus Bengal

2016-04-02 12.33.54

I pride myself on having three cats and a guide dog, an unlikely collective who get on with each other. Until this week anyway. Dion is being a little shit, he’s neutered but there are so many undone females wandering around and he is Mighty (aka he fights with the other local felines). He’s been bitey for the last few months, over-stimulated.

On Monday he attacked Uni.

I don’t mean this in a playful way. I mean he did something to Uni that has scared the living shit out of her, to the extent that she won’t come into the house or climb the stairs if she thinks he’s in the house. Ceri is confused because she and Uni have always been so chummy. She sleeps on Uni’s bed and meets us at the edge of the estate; she has no idea why Uni is now giving her a wide berth.

I caught D trying his second go at Uni on Monday. She was back-pedalling, he had one paw out in a very offensive manner then she went to the front door and begged to be let out, refusing to come in (mid-Storm Katie). Since then she’s been much happier out and refuses to go anywhere D, he’s calmed down but it leaves me in a very horrible place. I spent yesterday (thanks period-emotions) crying on the phone to my instructor, convinced this was the final nail in the coffin while Mhairi and Bramble tried to console me.

There’s a reason Mhairi is my BFF.

Lovely Instructor reminded me that if I retire Uni (something which has been on my mind of late due to her preference for fuss over work) I’m probably going to be dogless for the rest of the year. I don’t want to retire my hound but her age—she’s 7 next week—has been on my mind. Mhairi is helping; she takes no shit from anyone’s guide dog and Uni respects her enough to do as she’s told. I can’t, due to my Asperger’s, always get the tone right and am so easily stressed out that minor things become major.

My natural cycles, albeit suppressed by the implant in my arm, mean I periodically crash, hard. I’m sure this is connected to my bipolar, the emotions I’d usually have cranked up to 11. I’ve always been much more emotional and I tend to want to scream at people or cry. Yesterday I wanted to do both and, of course, you only ever notice AFTER the fact. This point makes me practically homicidal, especially as I’m normally a lot more submissive, even though people seem to want to shout at me for misdemeanours rather than be useful and help.

This picture shows how close Ceri and Uni will get, though when in harness she happily allowed Ceri to greet us when we came home yesterday in that ‘can’t you see I’m working’ manner my beloved dog has. I’m trying to help where I can by shifting Uni/Dion so Uni can see I’m here to protect her. All I can do at this point is reassure her and hope she’ll calm down, eventually twigging that neither Ceri not Isis, at least, are a threat.

But it doesn’t make me feel any better. I know the end is coming, if not right now then eventually and that scares me. I never imagined a day when I’d have to give Uni up and I’ll be damned if it’s because of one of my more idiotic cats being an arsehole.

No, just no.

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