Hero worship, the line forms here...

I have 2 huge dogs, a 7 yr old black lab ( mei) and a 5 yr old dalmatian (loki).

Admittingly Mei has an addiction to digging holes that rivals any crackheads need for a rush, and Loki is trouble by  many extreme neurotic syndromes and is randomly  willing to eat through a french door if I am in the shower and he can't see me.

However these magnificent yet flawed ( like us) beasts are my friends, my buds, my dawgs YO!

They will chase mail people, children and best of all,  the power meter dude.  An unfortunate side effect of such behavior resulted in them becoming pussified.  What I mean by that is, for over 1 1/2 years now these 2 giant hell hounds have become the equivalent of piddling little purse puppies.  They live inside.  It began when Loki was run over, nothing like a crushed pelvis and a couple surgeries to convince you to let the suffering dog sleep inside, but we can't be having favorites no no no, so in comes Mei, simply by proxy.

They are extremely handy.   The only exercise I get every day is sweeping the floors of the massive amount of hair they shed that leads to a mathematical conundrum that should have them running about completely nude ( as in hairless) which means clearly my dogs are exceptional, at growing hair.

There is also a possessed evil cat that dwells under my roof, but this is not about her or her evil ways.

For 2 weeks now there have been what can only described as a marauding GANG of  Thugs (stray cats)  living on my back and front porch.  Their tendency to accidentally think this is OK is in large part the fault of my husband and child feeding and spending time in the yard paying them undue attention.

This is a cause and effect situation..   The presence of these thug cats has turned my massive mans best friend BEAST dogs  into sniveling she wimps.  They want out, they can't go out back there's a cat on the deck OMG what do we do?  Sure we are 10x's the size of those furry things but OMG they make an awful hiss.  Ok lets go to the front, everyone's excited sliding on the wood floors hauling ass to the front door, fling it open and SATAN is sitting there with fangs, and  claws and a hunched back and making a noise that scares us.

Since I personally fall no less then 35% of the time I am standing up  I make it a habit not to bend over.    But I love my dogs, and by love my dogs I mean I want their hairy asses to shit outside.

I took a gamble picked up the cat who was preventing my dogs from access to the grass in my yard,  thus allowing them to freely run into the sunshine and pee and dig holes.

Short lived was our little utopia when my vicious attack beasts were quickly engaged in a war for the porch with the legion of felines.

I again had to get up I walked to the front door, fling it open and NOW  my dogs can not get in,  because SATAN is standing guard at my front door, they are in battle mode, attempting to defeat this foe but literally powerless to do anything other than bark at it, and quickly jump backwards.

It was clear to see by the look in their eyes that they felt absolutely horrible for not being able to help me.  In their eyes I was trapped, trapped in the house they couldn't get to thanks to what I can only assume in dog vision equates to a 300 foot  DRAGON.

Without even thinking I simply drop kicked the cat across the yard thus giving my strong manly beasts a hurdle free path to enter the castle.

I looked down and saw my dogs, frozen in time, staring at me in total disbelief.  I was a GOD.  They were completely freaked out that I, me, a mere mortal was able to defeat the SATAN beast so that they could again return to the comfort of laying on my leather couches in the air.

As if for only a moment,  my dogs could speak I am sure they would chant my name, just like the last couple minutes of the movie Rudy.

For I have that level of power.  You are welcome.