Does this look like the face of a dog who is pleased to have to be sharing a story about getting whooped by a cat?

Scrappy, my Terrier-Terrier-Terrier-Something Mix has a bone to pick with Kamikaze Kat–a neighbor’s giant Maine Coon Tomcat. Scrappy would really like to pick Kamikaze Kat’s bones, but venting will have to suffice because New York law protects cat-instigated violence, but throws the book at dogs that show too many teeth while smiling. I’ve asked Scrappy to keep his language civil as he tells his story. (His therapist said doing this will help him get over the trauma).

NOTE: I’m translating from Scrappy-Speak to English, so bear with me. Here goes…

Hi. My name is Scrappy, or as everyone knows me around here, “Adorable, Cutest Dog in the Hood, Happy Scrappy.”

I was on duty Monday at 6:30 pm, doing a Periphery Scan of my territory, which happens to be the whole condo complex. Always the perfect law-abiding citizens, my Humans had me on my leash (they say it’s for my own good, but they tell themselves a lot of silly things) and were armed with those strange plastic poop bags. Why do they pick up my poop? You’d think they would have better things to do than collect my recyclables, especially when I leave them there for others to enjoy. Oh well, I digress.

I was prancing happily along the sidewalk when something caught my eye. At first, I thought it was a racoon. But a quick sniff told me it was a cat. I know what to do with cats. I’m I dog and darned proud of it! There was a man standing near this extra-large cat, but he was uninteresting. I stopped to assess the situation as I do on all Periphery Scans. Should I lunge or just give the cat a good “I’m the boss of you” stare?

Just this look got these dogs under my complete control...

I didn’t have time to decide. The cat sprung into action. It got twice as big and it came barreling toward us. I would’ve stayed there and showed him why my name is “Scrappy,” but my Humans were tugging at me to make a quick get-away. Kamikaze Kat was chasing us for several 100 feet. He was hissing, my Humans were shouting and did some hissing of their own. I was impressed as I was being dragged along. But we weren’t quick enough. Kamikaze Kat got one lightning-fast, razor-sharp swipe on my nose. He drew blood.

Be afraid, be very afraid...

That’s when I decided to let my Humans do what they do best: take care of me.

To Kamikaze Kat: you’d better stay inside and stop terrorizing terriers. I heard my Humans talking about carrying spray bottles on our walks.

Well, you brought this on yourself. Not feeling so King-of-the-Jungle now, are you?

To Kamikaze Kat’s Handler: Stop letting your cats watch those nature programs where big game cats take down animals 3 times their size. You’re only giving them delusions of grandeur that make them behave inappropriately for a residential neighborhood.

Watch something more down-to-earth like The Real Housewives of Anywhere. They're catty but don't generally draw blood.

To My Humans: Thank you for tending to my wound, giving me extra treats, and getting me that appointment with the pet therapist/communicator. PPTSD (Puppy Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) shouldn’t be ignored.

My Humans cleaned my wound and tucked me safely in bed. I love my Humans.

To You Readers: Thanks for listening. It’s not easy for a dog to admit he got beaten up by a cat, even if it was a giant cat on steroids named “Grumpy.”

There's Grumpy, just waiting for his next meal--a small child or perhaps a Prius--anything that can't outrun him from a dead stop.

Now, I think I’ll go take a nap and dream of kicking Kamikaze Kat’s keester…

Sincerely, Scrappy