Just when I thought it couldn't get weirder...

Brandy came from an all-volunteer shelter with no proper building but a
network of foster-caretakers who raise the cats until they get adopted.
She was a kitten when found near a school, fed by kids who gave her
scraps from their lunches and played with her at recess. When Marilyn
took her, she found a temporary home in a place full of cats and one
dog, who was her rough-and-tumble buddy until Louie and I adopted her.

She took right away to Stosh, in whom she found a wrasslin buddy
apparently on the level of her canine friend. From day one, they've
spent their mornings tumbling around in mock battle. Sometimes
Brandy--apparently remembering Marilyn's dog--would put her ears back,
show her teeth, and growl like a WWE star putting down an opponent. And
then there was this morning.

I was sitting up in bed and they were rolling around, then came sitting
in front of each other taking turns swatting. After being smacked three
times, Brandy put her ears back, showed her teeth...and barked. I swear
on my mother's dentures, she said ARF in a distinct Miniature Schnauzer
accent. At least, how I'd imagine a Miniature Schnauzer would sound: a
bit high, very quick, and sounding like it was coming through a fur
mustache. Even Stosh took a step back. "What the HELL?!" he said, and
looked up at me and Louie. We were stunned. Brandy already licks our
faces in the morning. I'm concerned about identity issues, and wonder if
she's been well wnough potty-trained, and if there are Electra-complex
issues that haven't been worked out as of yet.

Blessed be,
Baha