I reasoned that the dog is not a cat and perhaps Mel's alpha tendencies would not show towards a species other than feline or human. I told myself that she would adapt to the dog because otherwise, in her mind, the dog would eat her. I thought, "finally! she will be put in her place!"
I brought the dog home on Monday, Labor Day around 9 am. Buddy was rather freaked out when I picked him up and after the (eventful) drive home, I was looking forward to Mel getting a taste of her own medicine.
It was a struggle to get the dog upstairs as he follows his nose and there are many interesting things to smell in my building such as the other dog, the apartment with cats, the incense my neighbors burn, the place where a dead animal carcass was left and the homeless guy under the stairs.
Finally at the top of the stairs (victory!), I put the key in the door and heard her royal diabolicalness on the other side. "Mroww mrow mrow mrrrrrrowwwwwww."
Bwahahahaha. This was it. My chance to recover from three years of abuse!
Now I have to say, I was slightly worried that this dog was going to attack my baby, but at the same time, I could tell he was so excited that he would just be playing and wanting to sniff. I got a firm grip on his leash and gave myself some room to be pulled, backing up halfway across the landing from my door.
I leaned far over and pushed the door open.
The dog rushed in.
The dog rushed out.
Whimpering, yelping, and made a dash down the stairs towards the much safer homeless guy sleeping under the stairs.
Mind you, this occurred in the course of seconds.
Like a cartoon I was left with my arm still outstretched from holding the leash, and standing towards the open door, dumbfounded.
And there sat Mel.
Preening and cleaning her face in the most indignant way, fluffed up to nearly twice her normal size, eyes black like her heart and fangs of steel protruding from her jaw (ok that's for dramatic effect, her fangs only FEEL like steel, but I do think her heart is black). While you couldn't really tell, the noise was definitely coming from her and it sounded what I imagined a beached whale sounds like.
I closed the door as if I had peeked behind the wrong one. Next time, I would open the right door, the dog would go in and the cat would be put in her place.
I went downstairs after the dog and coaxed (yes, coaxed) him back up the stairs.
"Buddddddy, come on pretty boy."
I made him sit while I opened the door. I stood behind him so that there would be no running away.
I cracked it and instantly I had an 80 pound dog between my legs, whimpering and trying with all his might to flee back down the stairs.
The struggle went on for about 3 minutes, which is a long time when you are fighting with such a big dog to get him somewhere he doesn't want to be. Mel stood her ground the whole time, not once backing off or moving. Just staying a fluffy ball of growling teeth and holding her own, hissing and spitting and being generally unagreeable.
Well at this point, Buddy and I were cornered in the entrance - me waiting for him to get her to back off and him waiting for me to get her to back off. Apparently neither of us have any balls.
Eventually I made a move towards her and the hostage situation was dispelled.
In the meantime, the 80 pound weimaraner is terrified of my 10 pound feline who was most certainly NOT put in her place.