Shadow is our oldest cat; he was 17 in April.
Before I'd ever heard the phrase "alpha male," I knew what it meant. Shadow taught us. He runs the household; he is our overlord. Often when the girls (Molly and JJ) are lounging around, minding their own cat business, he'll pin one of them down just to remind her who's in charge.
People must adjust their meals to accommodate Shadow. Sometimes we have to close him up in another room -- or close ourselves up elsewhere -- especially if chicken is on the menu, since he will shamelessly attack our dinners. Sharing with him doesn't solve the problem since there's not enough chicken on the planet to satisfy Shadow's craving.
For all his bluster, however, Shadow is really just a big baby. He craves human attention (I hear about aloof cats, but darned if I have any at MY house) and insists on sitting on our laps, often crawling up our chests to schmooze face-to-face, the moment we sit in the living room. (It occurs to me, however, that this might be his version of pinning humans down.) Yet all it takes to send this macho cat running in terror is the "on" switch of the vacuum cleaner.
Here's to you, Mr. Shad.
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