From Scaredy Cat to Killer Attack Dog

From Scaredy Cat to Killer Attack Dog

We have a house cat named Jyn, who we adopted from a shelter a few years ago when she was just a little kitten.

While she was pretty shy at first, she warmed up to us fairly quickly after she got used to her new family and her new home.

But then, after maybe a year or so, her behavior began to change.

She is much less affectionate these days and just acts scared a lot of the time. Sometimes she’ll randomly tip-toe through the house, pausing after each step while looking around in terror, as if she expects a clan of evil ninjas to suddenly jump out of nowhere and attack.

So weird.

Big Brother Visits From Hawaii

When my wife and I and our younger son moved from Hawaii to Las Vegas a few years back, our older son decided to stay and live with his dad in the islands. He was 18 back then.

But he’s a grown man now at 25, tall and handsome. And we don’t get to see him much these days. So it was nice to have him around for a few weeks.

At least it was fun for most of us.

The cat did not approve.

When Big Brother arrived, Jyn freaked out a little, as expected. But not too bad. She would mostly just hide in another room or at least keep her distance from him when he was here at the house.

But overall, things seemed to be going well.

Until that fateful day…

I was in the bathroom when I heard the scream.

And then I heard something that sounded like a car crash from the next room.

As I ran out of the bathroom, I heard a distant, muffled plea for help.



“Can you help me, please!

My wife burst out of our bedroom and into the hallway as I came around the corner – and that’s when we saw what all the commotion was about.

Our little scaredy cat had turned into frickin Cujo, right there in the middle of our living room.

Jyn stood with her back to us – spine arched, ready to pounce, her soft white fur puffed out in all directions – hissing and growling at the dark silhouette of the tall, lanky intruder outside in the back patio just a few feet away.

It was our older son, cautiously peering through the glass sliding door, which was cracked open about an inch – just enough for him to cry out for help.

Moments ago, he was kicking back on the patio and enjoying a smoke on a chilly, November morning during his vacation in Las Vegas.

Now, five minutes later, blood was dripping from both ankles as he feared for his life.

CARTOON: scaredy cat

What Happens in Vegas…

We managed to calm Jyn down enough for her to let Big Brother back into the house.

For the next couple weeks that he stayed with us, I would often hear him trying to negotiate with the cat.


  • “Hi Jyn!”
  • “Hello Jyn!”
  • “Hey kitty!”
  • “Nice kitty!”

Followed shortly by, “Mooo-ooomm! She won’t let me back in the house!

He’s back home in Hawaii now, and I suspect he’ll be keeping quiet about the details of his near-death experiences with our cat when he posts on Instagram.

Jyn has dialed it back down, and things are getting back to normal around here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see our killer attack dog acting like her old feline self again, paranoid AF and slowly tip-toeing through the house, pausing after each step and looking around cautiously.

Relax, Jyn.

No ninjas.

And no more Big Brother, either.

Just lick your ass and go back to sleep.