Nanny 911 a/k/a Joey the Cat

Csaba here...We've lived with the Walters Pack for just over two months now, and in that time we have come to have much respect for our brother, Joey the Cat.

Joey is a 16-pound orange striped ball of emotional detachment. He is most definitely aloof and has corrupted the mind of my brother, Bugsy.

Early on, Bugsy had great respect for Joey. He would step out of Joey's way when Joey would walk through the room, bowing like a humble peasant to his king. Seeing this submissive attitude and knowing he could exploit it to the fullest, Joey raised his eyebrow in villanous interest and took Bugsy under his wing to train him in all things cat. In fact, Bugsy now thinks he is part cat, which is a potential downer for our dad who claims an allergy to cats. Oh the pugmanity!

I myself like to push Joey's cat buttons. This is one of our first interactions with Joey a few months ago when we were seven or eight weeks old. Notice how Bugsy is giving Joey respect by not looking at him directly in the eyes. I, on the other hand, want to have a few words with His Royal Highness Joey the Cat:



And here I am later, all three pounds of me, challenging Joey to a face-off. Note the look of disinterest -- I mean fear -- in Joey's eyes!



Mom has had Joey for seven years and dad has lived with him for about a year. Mom loves Joey. Dad tolerates him. But Dad has finally decided that Joey the Cat indeed serves a purpose other than to let us know that our Dyson vacuum cleaner still works by providing cat hair to be swept up every day. He also is Supernanny. When Bugsy and I wrestle and play rough, it's Nanny 911 to the rescue.

Last week, we were given a big box to play in. We loved it but Supernanny did not approve. According to our mom, Supernanny knew that we would rather eat the box than play in it, which is not healthy for us. According to Supernanny, he just wanted the box for himself. [Note how we are starting to gain on Joey in size after just two short months!]



Here's a typical shot of Supernanny just seconds before serving a smackdown on us:



The way it works is, Supernanny will give us a few smacks, all the while providing us with a brief, yet memorable lecture consisting of a string of angry meows, and we know he means business.

After the first few times of disciplining us, I have now come to respect Joey. Fortunately, I'm gaining weight every day and I will likely outweigh him by at least 10 pounds. Can't wait to see the day when that happens!

The vet lady strikes again

Bugsy here...dad took us to visit the vet lady yesterday afternoon. We still fit in our big brother Joey's kitty carrier, but a mishap has tainted my love for being chauffered in the carrier (more on that later).

When we arrived at the doctor's office, all eyes were on us. We felt like celebrities. Only in prison. It was weird looking out at all the strange faces from the inside of the carrier. I have to admit that the oohing and ahhhing was flattering, but I was actually glad we were behind bars...I tend to be a bashful pug. Unfortunately, our sanctuary and interactions with the pugpapparazzi were short-lived. The vet lady beckoned and my experience quickly went downhill.

I don't remember much because it was so traumatizing. I mean, first of all, she put her face two inches from mine and barked at me again with her loud, shrill bark. Scary! That's no way to greet someone! Especially someone as cute and little as me!

Second, she told me I weighed 10.2 pounds. I just don't know how that's possible, seeing as how I am so trim and work to keep the weight off by going crazy every day from 4:30 to 8:00 p.m. I was tickled to hear that Chubby, I mean Csaba, weighed 12.1 pounds. Hehehe. Fatso. I mean, look at his stomach. Pug sure knows how to eat. I think I look svelte, by the way, although I hear the camera does add a few pounds.



Then, the vet lady decided to give us what she calls booster shots. I prefer to think of them as torture devices. Csaba has extra padding, so it didn't bother him. But when she stuck me, it was no fun and the performer in me just had to let everyone know about it. I cried really loud and I think dad felt a little guilty. Mission accomplished! We then got treats (yum!) and headed out. I hope we don't have to see the vet lady again anytime soon.

On the way back, Csaba had car sickness. Fatty Boombahladdy shouldn't have wolfed down his treat so fast at the doctor's office. It wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't confined in the kitty carrier with him. Good thing it was treat-flavored. I helped him clean it up. Sheesh. What some pugs do for their brothers.

Before we got home, dad made a brief stop at DrugMart to pick up our 2005 dog tags. Now, with our nametags and dog tags, Csaba and I have serious bling bling. Snoop Dogg, watch out! Csaba Pugga and Bugsy Pug are in the hizouse!