Cat, 1; Dog, 0 (And Destini-Lyn's Pissed)

Junior, who lives in the double-wide trailer on the ridge across the holler with his wife Destini-Lyn and some things they call kids, came knocking on my door this afternoon.

Junior had his dog --- a pit bull-Dalmatian mutt I've been referring to as Rocco --- with him on a leash.

"Sorry to bother you," he said. "But Destini-Lyn's awful pissed about what your cat did to Fluffy, here."

Fluffy?

He pointed to Rocco. They call that scary-looking thing "FLUFFY"?

"Yeah," Junior said sadly. "I hate to bother you. But Destini-Lyn's awful pissed. Look at his face. It looks like your cat played tic-tac-toe on it or something."

I looked closer at Rocco, I mean Fluffy. He had all sorts of scratches on his face. Reminded me of what happened to my arm one time when I insulted my batshit crazy older sister after she had just done her nails. Looked like Fluffy had stuck his face in a woodchipper.

I looked up at Junior, who looked back at me sadly.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "It's pretty pathetic, a dog that can't even stand up to a cat."

MY MARSHA DID THAT?

"My Marsha, uh, I mean, my CAT did that? Gosh, I'm sorry." I said, hoping this wasn't going to turn into some kind of neighbor feud and end up as a small claims case before Judge Judy or something.

"I am, too," Junior said. "Fluffy's a dumbass, worthless dog. And Destini-Lyn's awful pissed."

I stared at him, not knowing what to say.

At that moment, Marsha came to the door and looked out. Rocco/Fluffy whimpered and cowered behind Junior.

"Meow," Marsha said. Junior blinked at her. The dog whimpered and cowered some more.

I did not act as translator for Marsha. It was pretty clear what she meant: "Hey, when do we eat? Looks like canine cojones for dinner!"

"I'm sorry about your dog," I said.

"It's OK, just wanted you to know Destini-Lyn's awful pissed off," Junior replied, turning and walking away, saying to Rocco/Fluffy, "C'mon, Dumbass."

Apparently Rocco/Fluffy has a new name.

I closed the door and looked at Marsha, who was licking her crotch. She looked up at me and said, "Meow."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, and hurried to the kitchen to get her some tuna. Pronto.