The Cats of Casa Largo

Otis was a Junior Prince of Cats in Casa Largo, which was a very important position, indeed.

Junior Prince Cats at Casa Largo are in charge of pouncing on Mousies, and generally making sure that those very naughty mousies don't do anything nefarious. Otis wasn't sure what nefarious meant, but it sure sounded naughty to him -- which was good enough. Otis was also in charge of catching flies and other naughty flying insects. He was quite good at it, but being a Junior Prince of Cats he had more than his fair share of curiosity, and when he would open those fat little paws of his to just peeka little tiny bit at his catch of the day . . . . that naughty flying insect would fly away, laughing at him (he thought.)

And when he wasn't catching those very naughty flies and very naughty mousies . . . .


. . . . he liked to keep his napping skills sharp. Otis was not quite a world-class napper yet, but he was learning under the instruction of his Uncle Fluffy, who was able to sleep almost 28 hours a day; which is quite a long time indeed. (Uncle Fluffy was a Norwegian Polar Cat; and had a long, luxuriant, warm fur coat, which encouraged him to sleep a lot.)

Unfortunately Otis had something of a handicap to his being a Prince of Cats; besides not having a long, luxuriant, warm fur coat:


His mother was a dog.

She wasn't his real mother, actually. He didn't really remember his real mother, or how he had come to the new house. But he did remember the first time he had met his new mother. Samantha (the dog) had walked happily over to Otis and sniffed Otis' nose, which is the Traditional Form of Greeting in the Manner of Her People.

Otis had greeted Samantha in the Traditional Manner of His People; First by swelling up to five times his own size (apparently by swallowing a great deal of air) and then releasing that air rather explosively through his teeth in a very painful sounding HIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSING sort of sound.

And being a very small sort of cat, he had punctuated his HIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSING sound with an explosive release of his bowels. Twice, in fact; and much to everyone's surprise.

But that had been a long time ago; years ago, in fact, and Samantha had never mentioned it since. She was a very motherly type of dog, and loved her little Otis very much. Even if he did smell a bit too much like fish for her tastes.

Otis stomped his little furry feet like a dog. He licked his fur like a dog, which made a very loud noise when he did it that made the other cats giggle. (Dog lips are a very different sort from cats lips, you know.) Otis wagged his tail like a dog, thumping it about like an epileptic kielbassa on a leash; rather than suavely giving it a swift flink from side-to-side like other cats.

And Otis was big, like a dog. He had a solid tomcat's body with a dog's solid bulk, which made him very handy as a doorstop when he had a mind to be (which was not often) or equally useful as an enforcer for the King of Cats (which was less often, but more fun) as well as quiet noisy.

That bulk made Otis the subject of more than a few jokes as well. One of the cats thought Otis bore a distinct resemblence to Shamu the Killer Whale at Seaworld; partly because of his bulk, and partly because of his small fluffy black-and-white markings on his cat-tummy.


Which is how he got the nickname "ShamooOtis." Being a cat of very little brain, he didn't mind in the least.

~~JD~~