Cat, 1. Ron, 0.

While I’ve been accused of having the terribly common, summer disease known as Blog Hiatusitus, it’s simply not true. I have much better excuses than that.

No, I’ve been missing for a variety of other reasons. My site was hacked by some supposedly-Palestinian hacker named Mahmoud SQL.  I’ve been busy designing a new website home for the fabulous Meredith Resnick and her blog, the Writer’s [Inner] Journey.  I’ve been dealing with two tiny teething people (canines for the one year old, molars for the two year old, drool rag and ibuprofen for this 30 year old).  And my tenants called to “let me know” that a kitchen cabinet fell off the wall.

And like, you know, it’s been totally nice outside and who can blog on a day like this?

But honestly, the biggest blow to my blogging routine came on Labor Day—from our cat, Pecos.

Pecos is a typical housecat—he’s a little overweight, gets worked up over laser pointers and ribbon, he loves having his ears scratched—but he also has a mysterious past.  You see, Pecos was once a street cat.  He’s even named after a street (Pecos Street, go figure) where he was found after someone hit him with their car.

We found Pecos a few years ago at the MaxFund Animal Adoption Center, a no-kill animal shelter here in Denver.  He was recently released from wires that bound his broken jaw; he was gaunt and intelligent and very affectionate.

But immediately we noticed some odd behaviors.  When he’s a little perturbed, he kicks himself in the face with his hind leg.  He goes absolutely insane when he sees another cat outside.  He eats like every meal is his last, prefers to sleep inside cardboard boxes, on newspapers, or anywhere that looks particularly uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, he’s turned into a mellow, tubby bucket of fun, he’s extremely generous with his fur, and he’s great with our daughters.

On Labor Day, however, a friend of mine/coworker of my wife came over with his one-year-old Mastiff.  The dog is enormous, sweet and adorably naive.

Pecos immediately smelled the innocence on the dog and gave her a hiss.  She startled and backed away slowly. Pecos advanced.

My wife (holding the dog’s leash) and everyone else watching laughed with amusement; who doesn’t love seeing one of these “America’s Funniest” moments in real life?  It was the beginning of something worthy of LOLCats:

Pecos, however, clearly was not amused—and the laughter clearly pushed Pecos into a flashback of his life on the streets.

Like a surly hobo, Pecos swaggered and grumbled at the dog, driving her further back.  I’m fairly certain if a broken beer bottle were available, Pecos would have picked it up and swung it wildly.  The poor, foolish Mastiff lowered its head slightly, sniffing at Pecos, perhaps smelling for evidence of Listerine or Peach Schnapps on the cat’s breath.

Pecos swiped and jumped on the dog’s back.  An that’s what clearly pushed me into a flashback of my days as a high school teacher. I shoved my arm authoritatively between them, grabbing for Pecos to pull him away to the principal’s office.

Note to Self: Never try to break up a cat fight, stupid.

What followed can only be best illustrated by this scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail:

Alright, perhaps I’m exaggerating a little. But I still have marks on my right forearm from a flying Pecos bite, the swelling and oozing and unholy pain has only recently subsided, and I’m still on a round of antibiotics to help heal the bite. If that’s not a good excuse to go missing from your blog, I don’t know what is.

And Pecos, well, he’s back to his old self—not a shred of evidence left from his violent fugue.  Except, however, I’ve noticed that usual twinkle in his eyes burns a little brighter these days:

"Finally, my powers have returned..."

There’s still plenty of time to enter Blog Salad’s LeapFrog Tag Reader Giveaway Contest! Visit here for additional details. Post a comment about your cat’s superpowers here for automatic entry into the drawing on September 25.