How he is still smiling is beyond me

Tui is the family bruiser. She is the sort of cat that will go into a room and cause a riot. She was a rescue – and had come to us via a pet store. Mrs. Ottawacker came back with her one Sunday afternoon – having already put her foot down about any more pets in the house. I still laugh at that one.
 
Anyway, we subsequently found out that she had been in a family that had 4 or 5 dogs. These dogs, who in my mind ranged in size from German Shepherd to Rottweiler to Pit Bull, were absolutely terrified of her.
 
She is gentle enough with humans, but not the sort of cat you’d wake up, carry to a chair, and sit and cuddle. She, in the immortal words of someone, takes no shit from anyone.
 
Unless it is Ottawacker Jr., that is. He can seemingly do what he wants to her and she laps it up. If we sit and watch TV, she will seek him out and kerplunk down on his lap. She sleeps on his bed. She lets him brush her and pet her. She is putty in his hands.
 
Not that I am jealous, you understand. But I am supposed to be the cat whisperer.