Mr. Boots hissed at me from the end of the couch, just before he candidly jumped up and onto the lap of the son, sweetly purring and nuzzling his orange head into his hand.

This didn’t bother me though. In fact, I just lay on the floor lazily and waited for my moment to come when…

”…EEE-AAHHHHHHHHH! My- my- my prom dress!”

The whole family (and the fur-ball) rushed upstairs to determine the origin of the wild howling. I tried to keep up, but my osteoarthritic knees did not afford me the luxury of seeing the precise moment when the daughter snatched up Mr. Boots.  She lifted him to eye-level from his scruff and glared at her cat. She proceeded to yell at him about how much of a mistake she had made in bringing him into their home, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I’ll admit, I might have fished the dress out of the closet for Mr. Boots’ razor-sharp claws to enjoy, but I don’t believe any long term damage has been done.  Plus, she was never going to wear that dress again anyway.  It was simply sentimental and taking up valuable space in a closet she always complained was ‘too small.’

So Creak makes sure everyone is a winner – even for Mr. Boots, who went on to live with my pet’ aunt who is quite fond of cats and has fourteen others just like him.

Once again, this dog rules his house.