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!