My fiance has two cats and an Australian Shepherd. One cat is a Maine Coon, we call her "grandma" because she's 16 years old, a bit testy, doesn't give two shits what you think, and has a perpetual look on her face like the world she grew up in made so much more sense than all the ignorance the rest of us are up to these days.
The other cat is a Siamese, not the new weird looking kind but the classic breed look. He's a handsome, athletic devil. Unfortunately he's got several personality disorders that make him a complete dick. He's got some weird cat equivalent of Sundowner's Syndrome where at dusk he begins to get really weird and spastic for an hour or two. He darts around, either chasing or fleeing from ghosts, and generally stirring up trouble that he doesn't get into any other time. He also doesn't like doors. He stands at doors, meowing away like an inconsiderate prick if you're in the bedroom sleeping. If you get up and let him in, he'll sit at the door and meow to get out. He sits at the cabinet where the cat food is and meows like he's some third world, starved, deprived, mistreated creature, even if you just fed him 10 minutes ago. He can't be happy.
He also occasionally likes to pounce on the grandma cat and put her in--swear to God--a choke hold, at which point the Aussie--Champion of Household Chillness--will immediately step in and put a stop to his antics. If only I could train the dog to do that to him all the time, instead of only when he thinks grandma is in danger. Overall, the dog is a total bro dog. We are homies. I like him better than I like most people.
Shout-out to Erin, she knows what I'm talking about with the Aussie's.
