My exceptionally pleasant dream of shooting blue-lightning out of my claws and frying Mr & Mrs Fat Cow (guess who was watching 'Return of the Jedi' last night...) is suddenly interrupted by Chris going flying past. As far as I'm concerned, he sounds like a herd of elephants and I wonder, with no small degree of annoyance, how one person can make such a racket.

I mean, do *I* make that much noise when I get hit by a burst of speed? I most definitely don't think so...

Tetchily, I knock a CD off the stereo before jumping off it and heading to within hearing distance of where Chris is standing at the front door.

"Sam! Um, what's that?" he queries slowly.

Sam. Well I never. I *am* surprised.

"Last time I looked it was a dog. Feel free to correct me though if you know better," Sam replies sarcastically.

// *Dog*? //

"Okay. Fine. Perhaps I asked for that. Let me try again. Who's is it, and what are you doing with it?"

"His name's Brutus, he's a Rottweiler, and he belongs to a friend of Spencer."

"Spencer has friends?"

"There's no need to be like that."

"You're right. I shouldn't have said it like that. But, well, you know... He seems to live on the computer..."

"He met Brutus' owner in a chat-room."

From my position in the living room, I can just imagine Sam standing there, trying hard not to laugh as he says that. Chris, on the other paw, doesn't even try not to laugh, and snickers for a moment before questioning Sam again.

"Okay, so Spencer has a friend that he met in chat-room and who owns a dog called Brutus... Marvellous. Now, why do you have Brutus, or perhaps more to the point, why have you got him here?"

"I want Mishy to meet him."

// Excuse me? Why do I want to meet a slobbering canine? //

"Excuse me? Can I ask why you want to introduce my cat to a Rottweiler?"

"Because I think it's high time she met something bigger than her... She might finally realise that she's not as damn perfect as she thinks she is."

// Dream on, Sam. //

"You worry me. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"I'm *fine*. I just think that after Mishy's last little escapade, she needs to be taken down a peg or two."

"And you think that by meeting Brutus she's suddenly going to become all sweetness and light?"

"Bring her out here and we'll find out."

"Uh-uh... I don't think this is a good idea... Hang on! You're still pissed about the cushions, aren't you? That's what this is all about!"

"She *shredded* two of my cushions!"

They were revolting. Besides, Sam had ticked me off at the time. Personally I think he should consider himself lucky that I stopped at the cushions.

"So? They were ugly anyway."

"They were *Versace*!"

"That doesn't make them any more attractive."

"They were *expensive*!"

Poor Sam. All that speaking through clenched teeth can't be good for him.

"Get over it. They were just cushions."

"They were... Okay. Forget it. Just bring Mishy out here and I'll feel satisfied."

"You don't, by chance, think that you are behaving exceptionally childish?"

Sam suddenly laughs. "I *know* full well that I'm acting stupid, but it's too late to stop now. I'm already faced with trying to find a half-way reasonable excuse to explain to Malone why the door-handle in the Nissan has dog-size teeth marks in it! Come on... Mishy! Mishy!"

Idle curiosity propels me slowly in the direction of the door.

"She won't come."

"Yes she will. Remember, curiosity killed the cat..."

// Well, I was coming, but I'm not now. //

I don't care about the inane proverb, I'm simply pissed off that Sam sounded so convinced that I'd come. Stuff him!

"Sam!"

"Yeah, yeah... I didn't mean it like that."

"You'd better not have. Contrary to your esteemed opinion, I happen to like Mishy."

// You tell him, Chris. //

"We all have our faults... Here! You hold Brutus' leash and I'll get Mishy."

"I'm warning you. If anything happens to her then I'm going to shoot your knee-caps off!"

I watch, from my position on the floor, as Sam comes towards me. He grins as he reaches me and, humouring him, I allow myself to picked up. I have no fear about meeting Brutus -- as if! -- and purr gleefully as I get carried to the front door.

// Hello Brutus! //

Sensing my presence, Brutus reluctantly removes his snout from Chris' crotch -- oh! Look, Sam, something you and Fido have in common! Although, I must admit that Chris always looks more impressed when you're doing it -- and glowers up at me.

Brutus watches dully as Chris swaps him, with a vicious yank on his leash, with Sam for me. It then finally dawns on him that not all is right in his little doggy world and he goes ballistic.

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

// Yeah, yeah... Woof, woof! Either put a sock in it or change the record. //

Not being conversant in canine, I have no idea what Brutus is on about. For all I know he could be presenting the prophecies of Nostradamus...

Chris smirks at Sam. "Happy now?"

Sam's mouth moves up and down, but whatever he had to say is drowned out by Brutus' beresk barking.

Suddenly, to everyone's immense horror, Mrs Fat Cow wrenches her front door open and arrives on the scene. Ignoring the fact that Brutus is all but frothing at the mouth by this stage, she storms up to him, grabs him by the jaw and shrieks, "*Shut it*! You stupid mongrel!"

I honestly don't know who is more surprised, Sam or Brutus. The shock of being too close to the housewife-from-hell (resplendent in a floral mu-mu, her hair in curlers and a cigarette hanging limply off her bottom lip...) is too much for Sam and he lets Brutus' leash slip from his grip.

Brutus, obviously terrified (not that I can really blame him...), embraces freedom with all that he's got, and takes off up the street.

Making an extreme effort, Sam finds his voice and glares at Mrs Fat Cow. "Were you *born* this charming, or is it a skill that you've acquired?"

I think the word 'acquired' is a bit beyond her vocabulary and it takes her a moment to think up a response. Narrowing her piggy little eyes, she glares at Chris and Sam in turn before being hit by a less than stunning brainwave. "Fag!"

// Oh. *Good* one. I'm ever so jealous of your comeback skills.//

The smirk that has been on Chris' face ever since Brutus lost the plot, broadens, and he gently places me on the ground. "You know something? You're right! Thanks for reminding me."

Chris backs his words up by grabbing Sam by the jacket, pulling him towards him, and kissing him deeply. Putting on a good show, Sam responds enthusiastically and they entwine so tightly that they almost look like one.

Mrs Fat Cow is *horrified*. Her mouth hangs limply open and she looks oddly repulsed.

// You ain't seen *nothing*. //

"You! You... You *disgust* me!" With this, she retreats into her slum and slams the door with such force that the Christmas wreath -- it's currently June -- falls off.

Personally, I'm rather rapt in all this. I'd been expecting a somewhat boring day, but, so far, it's been anything but.

Chris and Sam finally pull apart and start to laugh uproariously. Eventually Sam pulls himself together. "Come on, we'd better go and hunt down Brutus."

"*We'd*? Where'd this we come into it?"

"It was your neighbour that scared him..."

"Yeah, but, remember why he was here in the first place?"

Sam sighs. "I should just give up when it comes to that cat, shouldn't I?"

// Damn right. You should know by now that you will never be able to defeat me. //

"It would be better for your health..."

"I think you're right. If I promise to love, honour and obey Mishy, like the dutiful human I should be, will you help me look for Brutus?"

// Come on, Chris, help him. I *like* the sound of that. //

"Deal. Just let me get my coat."

Poor Sam. He almost looks broken; a sad shell of a man.

I sneak between Chris' legs as he comes back out with his coat and, feeling triumphant -- without even really having had to do anything -- meander over to the back windows. There, I settle on the floor in the sun, slip into a light snooze and dream of Rottweilers wearing floral mu-mu's...