Lula, a disgruntled border collie, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,
My name is Lula and I am an absolutely adorable border collie mix. No really, I am gorgeous--everyone says so. For the past 2 years things have been great. My mom rescued me from a shelter and right away, without even trying, I had her wrapped around my finger. I mean, every time she sees me, it's hugs and cuddles. I get fed twice a day (and not the cheap stuff either), and if I so much as whimper, she makes such a fuss and the treats start flowing. It's a good racket over here, if you know what I mean.
Here's my problem: this summer we went camping in Mexico and one day this scrawny pip-squeak of a puppy followed us back to camp. My mom gave her some food (my food, no less), and I know the thing was hungry, but really, what a scene. You should have seen my mom fawning all over this little disaster.
Anyway, you can imagine the rest: that thing got itself a one-way ticket north and is now living the good life in my house. And guess who's suffering? Exactly. Not her. Me. Less cuddles, less attention, less everything. She steals my food, my toys, my spot on the couch and lately she's been getting into bed with us at night! My mom thinks it's all sooooooo cute and moves over to give her space! Can you believe it?
I've upped my efforts at adorability to show my mom that she doesn't need the other one, but she is smitten. How can I get things back to normal? How can I get my mom to see this thing for what it really is--a pain in the tail.
Thanks guys. I know you can relate.
Lovely Lula

Mickey: Can we ever relate. You should read our book, The Adventures of Mickey and Flea, about our early days together.
Flea: Talk about incompatibility. Mickey thought he could take care of the problem by turning me into a cat, because he said, dogs were insufferable. But he learned that we're really sufferable after all.
Mickey: Yes, but that was long after you took all my favorite sleeping spots and the human attention. I completely sympathize with Lula's plight.
Flea: Hopefully Lula is wise enough not to waste her time trying the impossible. Maybe, like you, she could find the new animal's talents and put them to good use. As you ended up doing with me, maybe I remind you.
Mickey: True, true. But I prefer the strategy of Banjo, our other dog housemate.
Flea: Please......
Mickey: Banjo dealt with the competition by becoming alpha dog.
Flea: No he didn't. I'm alpha dog sometimes. He just likes to beat me up when the humans aren't looking. And he's bigger.
Mickey: Precisely. There's your tact. Intimidate the bejesus out of your creature and we'll see how long she goes prancing about as the tiny queen.
Flea: Just remember to be adorably sweet when your human is around.

One hour later:
Flea: OK, Mickey has gone for his nap. I can level with you now that he's gone. When we got a 2-week old feral kitten, rescued by our teenage human, Mickey went beserk. He actually left the house for 3 months and refused to set foot inside. He'd stand pathetically outside the window and call for his food, making the humans bring it to him. Even his strike did no good. The humans were hopelessly, helplessly smitten by the little thing. I wasn't totally crazy about him myself as he really grabbed ALL the attention, but at least being a dog, and the old man of the house, it wasn't such direct competition.
Mickey finally relented when he realized he has no power over this. But don't tell him I told you. He's terribly humiliated. Eventually, the extra special attention mellowed out and we're all getting our fair share now.
Just hang in there. If your mom loved you before, she still does. And humans do get over their infatuations pretty quickly.

Garfield, a cool cat, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,
I am a loved cat that lives with my wife and three kids in the woods. In the city I'm sure there is not much danger and we do live semi close to town but we do have raccoons, skunks, coyotes. My people said that now we need to be extra careful because there is a mountain lion in the area right behind our house. What can I do to protect my family from this cannibal cat intruder?

Flea: Oh, those sorts of cats are trouble. You must take care not to cross their paths. I would make double sure that your family is indoors at night. And know where your children are at all times.

Mickey: This is only in case said lion is hungry. If he isn't, he certainly won't bother one of his kind. Unless he's loco. And living in this world, you never know.

Kealohamahina, a kitten, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,
I am a newly adopted 3-month old kitten. I love my new family, particularly my young human Brianna. I wish she were my mom, I love her so much.
Brianna is perfect, except for the fact that she doesn't want to play at night. She only wants to sleep and I'm concerned. It's the best part of the day. Is something wrong with her?
-- Your confused pal, Kealohamahina.

Mickey: Humans really do not have life very well figured out. Yes, they do sleep the best part of the day away. Nighttime is divine. You'll have to find other entertainment I'm afraid. Humans don't love to have their necks bitten while they're sleeping. Don't worry, once you're old enough, the outside world beckons and boy, will you have fun.

Flea: Or you can do what I do. Sleep during the night. It's really not so bad, even for a cat.

The Spaniel Siblings Bruno and Daisy write:

Where are you guys? Your reading public awaits. We've been busy chasing down Bambi and what exactly are you 2 doing? 

Your devoted readers, 

Daisy and Bruno

Mickey: I'll speak for both of us as Flea is at the dentist, even as I write, getting teeth extracted. Our human promised him milkshakes for dinner. (It's why we love her so much). I've been lazing in the dog days of summer, whilst our other feline comrade, Oscar, patrols for garden snakes and gophers. He's young. He can do the work. Our humans love us all--as long as we don't get into spats!!

  Thanks for the readership. It's so nice to be fully appreciated. 

  

Czarina, a New England retriever, writes

Dear Mickey and Flea,

My humans are absolutely impossible. They have several very well behaved retrievers and one feral cat who is a demon. He persists in attacking everyone, especially the humans who persist in wanting to pick him up and stroke him, because they say he is soooo beautiful.

Well, I am soooo obedient and gentle. How can I get them to stroke me?

       Your sad comrade,

        Czarina

Mickey: It's just like humans to go gaga over beauty. They are hopelessly enthralled by it. Have you ever trotted by a news stand and looked up--beauty, beauty everywhere with nary a mind to see. It a sad state of human affairs that beauty will forgive everything--including terrorist feral attacks.

Flea: Personally, I would remain as you are. You can improve your stroking odds by conveniently and patiently lying around after the cat has attacked. Loyalty often is second to beauty--in their eyes. 

LJ, a Connecticut dog, writes in to correct:

I personally am on barking and breathing terms with three cats with halitosis. They do keep coming back from the dentist, though.

   -- LJ

Mickey: Well, I would consider this an exception, not a rule. And, I would be highly suspicious of what your owner is feeding said cats if they are exhibiting this most uncat-like quality. 

Flea: That said, if the mouth odor bothers you (and I'm sure it does) move further away from the creatures to bark. And, if your human has enough imagination to understand you, politely suggest that he change dentists.

Mickey: Or better yet, the food.

Daisy, an upstart Springer, sister of Bruno, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,

  What is this halitosis the peeps keep talking about? They say I have it but I don't see it anywhere. It's kinda driving me crazy. 

   Daisy B. 

Flea: Halitosis, my dear, is bad breath. And I'm afraid we dogs get it from time to time.

Mickey: Not we cats, though.

Flea: Excuse me sir, as I was saying. We do suffer this most unbecoming condition. Have you been chomping on dead animals of late? Or ruffling around in the garbage? Humans have mouth liquid to kill said bad breath. But we have to be more resourceful. Try chewing on flowers--honeysuckle is good, roses work. Something sweet and odoriferous.

Mickey: And stay away from dead smelly things. Unless it's fresh. 

From Bruno, a much bothered Springer Spaniel:

Dear Mickey and Flea,

Yeah, I know it's the old sibling thing. But still. My sister Daisy (bigger and older by mere minutes) loves to swim and dive and generally get wet all over. I am of a much more delicate disposition and would rather stay dry, and clean. The problem is our owners: they think I should swim as well as Daisy and not only that, I should like it. Please help, I am really tired of their "well-intentioned" bumps off the dock. 

        Bruno.

Mickey: Delicate disposition or not, have you tried The Bite!

Flea: Mickey!!

Mickey: Do you have a faster, more effective form of communication here?

Flea: Not really. Bruno, just scare them. Don't break skin now. 

Gracie, a most affable dog, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,

I am a five-year-old mutt who is worshipped and coddled by my adult humans. My only problem is the 16-year-old female human. I can't figure her out! She is so moody!!! Any advice for surviving a teen would be greatly appreciated. I know this is advanced human psychology, but I need help!

     Gracie

Flea: First, you need an ego boost. Only humans think of us mixed breeds as something as mundane as mutts. We dogs of mixed breeds know us as species improvement, especially for the less desirable qualities among us. 

Mickey: As for teenage survival, one must put their paws down.

Flea: I think the grownups humans usually try that tactic and fail, as we have seen time and again in our house.

Mickey: So, your recommendations, oh Mr. Diplomatic?

Flea: Use your remarkable human mood radar. Be her pal when she's nice. The second you sense the shift, get ye under the grownup bed. There should be plenty of room to hide. She will calm down in a few years. Or leave home. 

Oscar, A Beloved Adopted Feline, writes:

I am a feral kitten who has been domesticated, yanked out of a dumpster at the age of 2 weeks. My humans are very nice and feed me well. They also like to pet me all the time, which is not so much fun when I'm busy hunting.

Could you please tell me why, if they love me so much, they get so freaked out when I bring dead animals home?

Mickey: Humans are so silly. They insist on having us cats as pets, but they hate it when we act like cats! You'd think they'd get that cats like to kill. We're carnivores, for Pete's sakes. What do they expect--that they feed and love us and we'll turn into little fur-lined kids, creatures who do what they're told. Not that all children do, but they certainly don't bring home their kill to play with. 

Flea: How about leaving your kill out in the wild. That's what I do.

Mickey: Good point, Flea. You're not going to change your humans on this front. Be a cat! Be proud! (You're a superior being, after all!) Just don't parade your hunting feats around the woefully weak of stomach. 

FedEx, a New York feline, writes:

Dear Mickey and Flea,

My name is FedEx, and I am a young and inexperienced black cat, living the good life in NYC. I live in a spacious uptown apartment. So my question is, why do  the humans with whom I live persist in feeding me desiccated brown pellets? Is this their idea of food?

        Looking forward to hearing from you--

        PS. I love salmon!

Mickey: Well, first things first. You are a cat, and being a cat, you have certain inalienable rights--the right to refuse to eat and put humans in a tailspin. Humans already know cats as finicky eaters. So play on that. Stop eating. Until they feed you what you like.

Flea: Excuse me, sir, but it's a bit more complicated in FedEx's case.

Mickey: I don't see how. He's a cat after all.

Flea: An inside cat.

Mickey: Oh, you're right. There goes the surreptitious eating.

Flea: Yes, it's hard to refuse brown pellets when you have no rodents or birds to take their place.

Mickey: You'll have to be creative about where you can find your food. Unless you can manage starvation for several days. Most unpleasant, but less so than pellets, I'm sure.

Flea: It's NYC. I'm sure there are cockroaches aplenty. Nice plump creatures. They should do. 

Welcome, fellow pets!

Mickey: Flea (pictured here) and yours truly (eyeing you from above) have been colleagues in the art of adapting to life with humans since we first met 11 years ago. Flea, being a puppy, was of course very ignorant at first and needed much education by moi. But, being a Lab, and a young dog, he was quick to learn. However, not without great effort on my part. Hours and hours of lessons....

Flea: Excuse me, Sir, but you must remember that I was always very well behaved and very polite. Oh, yes, and a pure breed.

Mickey: Yes, yes, yes. But even so, without my extraordinary and most outstanding brilliance, not to mention my astute intuition, we would never have made mincemeat out of human behavior.

Flea: Whatever.

Mickey: So please, oh fellow human co-habitants, feel free to share your problems with us. We will guarantee, with my Einsteinic brilliance, and Flea's PCness, to make you kings and queens of your palace, even if humans believe otherwise!