If I look tired, it's because I am. I have this recurring nightmare. A giant cat is chasing me. I try to fight it, but it has claws of steel and jaws that ooze poison. I always wake up in need of a Milkbone. I can't forget that day...that horrible day...

It was early in August that Scrappy was attacked by Kamikaze Kat. Being the fearless terrier-terrier-terrier-something that my eleven-year-old “pound-dog” rescue mutt mixed-breed designer canine is, I figured he would quickly rebound from the trauma and be his normal “Happy Scrappy” self. After calling The National Guard State Police Local Police and Condo Association, Kamikaze Kat’s owner must have gotten the message, because that big, bad beast is now invisible. If he’s terrorizing anything, it’s his owner’s home.

What could possibly happen to this fine hand-woven tablecloth or vintage scratch-post, er, violin?

Like all victims of cat-violence, the scars on the inside take longer to heal than the disfigured shreds of flesh on the outside. Scrappy, I’m sad to report, is among the legions of FIPTSD sufferers (Feline-Induced Post-Tramautic Stress Discombobulation). He has one major symptom: he lunges at any inanimate garden or porch ornament that is cat-sized and might launch an unprovoked attack (if, all of a sudden, it became animate).

I thought his loony behavior would go away if:

  1. I let him attack each inanimate object and he “won.” We are no longer welcome in many of our neighbors yards.
  2. I explained to him the “in” part of inanimate. He listened carefully then burped in my face.
  3. I approached the Condo Association asking for a ban on all cat-shaped or cat-sized or animalish-looking garden/porch ornaments, arguing that they just provoke highly sensitive pet companions. I didn’t really want to serve on any of their stupid committees anyway.

Nothing has worked so far. Scrappy seems permanently cursed with memories of Kamikaze Kat (a.k.a. Grumpy) setting his blood-thirsty sights on him, hissing, fitting, flying at him, and finally delivering the stinging swipe on his nose. My “Happy Scrappy” is now the neighborhood vigilante. No garden or porch decoration that resembles a cat is safe.

This red light means there's a potential threat in the vicinity. Hold on Mommy, I'm about to zig, so don't you be zagging!

Here are some of the suspicious characters on Scrappy’s “Watch List”:

I'll wipe that mouse-eating grin off your face.

Don't think that tippy bird bath or those lame masks are hiding you. And if you think cats in costume are going to fool a smart dog like me, you have another think coming.

You think those flimsy wicker chairs are going to protect you? Ha! Your smug little mug won't look so calm when I'm done with you!

Mr., you're just asking for a Scrappy-sized helping of whoop-your-stringy-butt!

Hey you...I'm gonna...oh...Mommy! It's just the head and look at those eyes. They follow you. It scares me. Make it go away.

I always give Scrappy a nice treat after our neighborhood surveillance walk. He seems to revert back to the courageous, self-assured, care-free guy I knew before that early August day. He even shows me his skills at rounding up threats inside our compound condo…

See, Mommy? These critters are under my total control. Blog away, knowing I've got your back...and mine.