Good fucking girl.

Just a little followup re: my post about the inherent potential aggression in my vicious, 60-pound pit bull puppy.

I was holed up in my room writing this morning, the wee folk out for a bike ride with Grandpa–both sick, but fuck it, I needed the break and awesome Grandpa is awesome and offered–when Bindi (Indigo/Indi/Indi-Bindi/Bindi was the progression for those curious) lost it at something out front. The previous owners put in this really lovely flowered stained glass panel in the window that runs the length of the left side of the front door, and while I adore it, it gives Bindi the perfect place to sit and “guard.” Generally the “guarding” is wholly unnecessary and annoyingly loud, but just as babies have different cries, dogs have different barks, and this time, Bindi was going full throttle.

Unfortunately, Bindi thinks the cat belongs in her mouth–not aggressively, of course, just because Face is a cat and Bindi is a dog and that seems appropriate to her canine-lizard brain. So Face, who has gone from indoor/outdoor to indoor and back to indoor/outdoor, is now officially an outdoor cat until Bindi gets her shit together. And I think she will, as she’s super smart and super sweet, just young. And Face fucking loves dogs and would totally play with her and cuddle with her and be her best friend if she would just get over it already.

And YES, I realize that means, for the time being, I have prioritized the dog over the cat.

HOWEVER.

Face has always seen the litter box as optional because cats are total assholes. When she’s indoor/outdoor, though, it doesn’t matter, as she’s happy to go outside. However, that quickly changed when we adopted Bindi and she had to be on defense all the time and was understandably pissed (haha, see what I did there?). So protest peeing became item one on the feline faction’s household agenda. And I can’t handle cat pee. Like, even a little bit. You wanna know what I did to the carpet in the corner of the office/spare room–now our kick-ass, wonderful housemate’s room–when I found out she had ostensibly been peeing there for a very long time? First, I borrowed my mom’s rug shampooer and shampooed it thoroughly, not once, but several times. And those machines can suck, and the shampoo contains enzymes specifically to break down cat urine. I propped the carpet and padding up and let it all dry out before laying it all back down, but it still smelled like cat pee. So I sprayed it with hydrogen peroxide, sprinkled it with baking soda, let it dry, and then vacuumed the crap out of it. Twice. Still no dice. So then?

I CUT THE MOTHERFUCKER OUT.

All of it, year-old pad and carpet, down to the subfloor, in a triangle. I would rather have a random carpet-free corner than have any part of my house even faintly smell of cat pee. And our housemate has a corner cabinet that fits there perfectly, so we have even managed to spin my Final Solution into a slight net positive.

And so yes, the cat was relegated to second class family member and kicked outside.

But the argument could be made that she did it to herself, godsdammit.

Also, I fucking adore my cat, in case you were wondering. She’s just an asshole.

ANYWAY.

After dealing with trash pandas (my high school BFF wins so hard) eating Face’s food in the garage, we moved it to the front porch, where we can keep better watch on it, and we feed her more often and less at a time and mostly during the day. So Bindi was actually providing a true, bona fide, very much appreciated security service in barking her fucking head off when she caught our neighbour’s dog, a small terrier-type something or other, whom Bindi has never properly met, eating poor Face’s food on the front porch. But although she generally stays well when told to, I totally underestimated her level of excitement, and she pushed past me when I opened the door to shoo the dog away from the cat food.

And here I will stop and say, for the record, that I was acting as a horribly irresponsible dog owner in that moment, and am fucking astronomically lucky what happened next wasn’t horrific, but was instead a testament to my “aggressive” pit/boxer mix’s natural disposition and tendencies.

So, of course, I suffered a bit of a mini heart attack as I tore off after them, a slew of terrible possible outcomes racing through my mind. And not because Bindi is aggressive in any way, but because we’ve had her for less than a year, and this is the first time she’s been given the opportunity to do something like this, so I had zero clue how she’d react. And she has only ever acted nervous and growled or barked at a few people since we’ve had her (sometimes even while wagging her tail and being pet by said person in some cases, which is very strange, no?), and they have all been older and grey-haired (which makes me wonder if they remind her of someone from her tragic beginning…). Unfortunately, this particular neighbour has been one of them, and their first meeting was not great, so that past history added to the understandable territorial beef could very well have been a recipe for disaster once Bindi invariably caught up with the dog and my neighbour, standing on his driveway.

But I bellowed at her to come as I ran out the door–with the combined force of raging mama bear and freaked out dog owner–and as she caught up to my neighbour’s dog in the plants between driveways, she just bowled her over a bit with a sideswipe, and was already running back to the house by the time I made it down the porch steps, my neighbour’s dog continuing on unscathed to her house.

DUDE.

Now, would I have preferred she not chase her and knock her over?

Yes. Yes, I would.

But in all honesty, that constituted a totally fair use of force, in my opinion. It’s pretty fucking obnoxious that my neighbour lets his dog roam our front yard, where she shits and apparently eats Face’s food, so, in the end, I’m okay with it. It was a well-deserved boundary warning, and could have been SO much worse under the circumstances.

So there you have it. More (total crap anecdotal) evidence for why generalized assumptions of aggression in pits and pit mixes is wholly unfounded.

Also, proud doggie mama moment.

*sniff*

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