You're Not My Type

Cat Ballou, the neighbouring Romeo, was known to swoon about outside the kitchen’s patio door, flop his huge fawn and furry self upon his back, expose his very large, very fluffy belly and reach ardent topaz eyes and white-tipped paws towards the disdainful Dolly who sat watching from the other side of the window. Talk about a strange courtship! Cat Ballou was Pépé LePieu epitomized except he was all male cat, not skunk. “My dahling, won’t you come out...to play?” his eyes would emote, no doubt purring enticingly.

Now and then Dolly would deign to acknowledge him by spitting at the window while emitting a hair-raising scream which would bring the entire household running, fearing the worst. Naturally, the more often heard, the sooner ignored. This had absolutely no effect on Cat Ballou whose ever hopeful romantic efforts continued unsuccessfully -- despite the screaming and spitting -- until Dolly moved away.