I grew up in a household where the cat and the dog formed a powerful duo dedicated to theft. Typically the two cordially occupied different parts of the house and minimally associated, but put something on the table they mutually desired, and it was the Mission Impossible team. The classic mission was when my godmother brought an elaborate cake for a Sunday gathering. Placed on the table, the people soon left the room to socialize in the living room, out of sight and mind, but only for the humans. Soon Daisy ( our cat) came to scout, and Honey ( our dog)took her station at the door to observe the humans. The cat reported that the goodies were acceptable, and the routine started. She was slowly nudging the cake toward the corner of the table. Honey was in the doorway, keeping watch. Suddenly there was a thud as the cake hit the floor. Next came the feast. The humans were in the other room unwrapping presents, telling stories, having cocktails, and other bewildering human activity.
The cat nibbled delicately, the cake really was not her favorite, but the dog stuffed in as much as possible in the seconds between the cake hitting the ground and the humans coming to investigate. Now came the escape. The cat scampered into a neat hidey hole and avoided the worst punishment. Honey, while small, was too large to disappear under a bed conveniently. She was chased about the apartment until all that exercise proved too much for a cake-stuffed tummy, and she barfed up the cake on my godfather’s shoes. I was soon implicated by laughter; I had little love for my godfather, and instead of seeing the tragedy of his expensive shoes being ruined, I saw a pompous ass brought gutter low.
Later I commiserated with the cat and dog. We had all three of us been punished. Me doubly, because I snuck dinner to the dog and the cat. My parents saw this as a betrayal of my godparents. My godparents had left in a huff, swearing not to return until “that cat and dog” were gone. Ahh…good riddance to bad cess!
Cats and dogs. Forever!