The dim witted ball of fur and drool that the human had brought in was at it yet again. The human had put down a bowl for each of them, one for himself, one for the fur ball. The fur ball had gobbled down his own canned meat chunks and slopped water onto the floor from his own water bowl. Now the slobbering beast had started in on the rightful fur bearing resident of this cave.
He could not take that kind of intrusion, and while he preferred a far more subtle approach, he had to make it known to the lout that he (it?) was not allowed to invade his territory. With a hiss, Mister rushed the wretch and swatted the creature on the nose, claws out, hard. The dog creature let out a sneeze and a yelp, falling back onto his tail. Mister hissed, teeth bared, letting it be known where this creature stood. He, Mister, was the dominant creature in this cave, while the dog was the newcomer, the guest whose presence he only marginally tolerated. The human might dote on him, and the dog might consider the human his boss, but the one who actually was a hunter of the night, who prowled the alleyways and the back streets of the concrete jungle, he was the one who ruled the shadows of the cave.
The dog slunk away, whimpering in that nauseating way that the humans found pitiable and endearing, but which Mister found revolting. Emotional manipulation had its uses but not the way that the wretch used it. Cuteness equaled weakness in his book. No prey would take you seriously if you acted like that, and he was not about to do that with his unwanted house mate. As long as the wretch kept away from the dominant creature's bowl.