RUSH: Now, I’ve got a request here from a guy wanting an update on how Punkin, my Abyssinian cat, is getting along with the puppy, now 14 weeks old, Abbey, an old English sheepdog. It hasn’t been pretty the past two days. Well, the past two times. I got back Sunday at noon and Punkin misses me when I’m gone. I was gone for a whole week. When I get back she will not leave my side. So I got back at noon Sunday and I’m just kind of chilling out, in the library, occasionally dabbling on the computer, and she’s at my feet or in my lap or when I sit on the couch she’s on the back of the couch right behind me, just can’t get enough, head-butting me and all this stuff. Happy I’m back. Animals are great that way. And six hours later, I’d asked Katherine, ‘Could you bring Abbey over? I want to see Abbey. I haven’t seen Abbey in a while.’ ‘Okay.’
I just happened to be walking past the front door to head to the kitchen about six o’clock, Punkin right by my side, the front door burst open, Katherine opens it, and here comes that puppy just running like a blue streak. And Punkin just gets shocked out of her little skin, and the puppy sees Punkin — and the first time they got together it was kind of peaceful. They were sniffing each other out as animals do. The puppy went a little too far in the sniffing so Punkin started hissing, but they were peacefully coexisting.
But that dog came in and just, arf, arf, arf, and Punkin, never met a dog before this and just makes a beeline for the other direction and the dog chases her and Punkin stops during the chase and hisses and then hides under a couch. I thought, ‘Oh, no, this is Punkin’s house, she can’t figure out what’s going on, she’s never seen a dog other than this one, ‘What is this thing?” I mean Punkin, as far as she’s concerned, it might be a Hawaiian lion.
So that happened. Then I guess it was later that night, it’s time to go to bed and Punkin has her own room. She has her own bathroom, water bowl and food bowl and so forth. It’s a pocket door separating the bedroom from Punkin’s little room in there, and I always leave it open two or three inches in case she needs to get out. I got up in the morning and go walk in there to feed Punkin, and the door’s open. I never go in there and I walk in, and the food bowl and the water bowl are empty. The dog had broken in while we’re sleeping and had scarfed all of Punkin’s food and consumed all of Punkin’s water. I assumed Punkin watched this happen. But Punkin was nowhere to be found.
I went downstairs and Punkin was eating from the alternate food site. There’s a downstairs place where she can eat also. And then the chasing happened again this morning. Punkin was minding her own business, dog shows up, arf, arf, arf, arf, and poor Punkin’s hiding under couches and in the crevices and the dog can’t get there but it’s trying to and Punkin — now, everybody’s told me these two are going to become best friends. I hope it happens. It’s kind of funny to watch but you can’t help but feel sorry for the cat because the cat’s had this house all to itself for all these years and here comes this rambling little upstart taking over, eating her food — and, by the way, that dog was never happier than after it ate the cat food. (interruption) No. Well, the dog has not gone anywhere near the litter box.
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RUSH: And I have to mention this. I have been, well, not deluged, but a number of e-mails: ‘You know, it’s really typical of men, Rush, telling a story about a dog and how much you wanted Kate to bring the dog over ’cause you missed the dog. Couldn’t you have at least said you missed Kate?’ I’ve been telling her all week that I missed her. (interruption) I know it’s not gonna work. I love the puppy, don’t get the wrong idea, I love the puppy, I have more fun with this — I had dogs growing up. I love Punkin, too. Nothing’s changed here. (interruption) What do you mean what’s the problem? No, I don’t love one more than the other. I’m an equal parent like this. I’m looking forward to these people who say, ‘Oh, they’re going to become best friends,’ I just want to see this happen.
Punkin’s going to be a tough nut to crack. It’s her house. It’s been her house for years. She’s 11 years old. I knew this was going to happen. This puppy with boundless energy comes running, Punkin, sophisticated lady of the house, watches this uncouth slobbering thing walk all over the house, chase her. ‘What has happened here?’ She looks at me plaintively, ‘What is happening here?’ Hides under the couch. And I go, ‘Come on, Punky, come on, it’s okay.’ She wouldn’t budge ’til the dog left. But interestingly, I hold the dog and I picked Punkin up and she doesn’t freak out with the smell of the dog on me, so there’s hope.