I inherited the kitten of my deceased bridal gown eating feline--Catzilla. I decided to name him Junior for short. He was the spitting image of his father, there was no denying it. An overweight tabby cat, he was known for eating just about anything. My bridal gown train was his last supper so to speak.

I salvaged my wedding day, but not poor old Catzilla. I buried him in our backyard near the fence line of what was then my newlywed home. The burial spot seemed like a good idea at the time until our new neighbors moved in.

They were kinda weird, very suspicious and so unlike our previous neighbors. Somewhat tolerable, but their dog, Megalon, was not.

It is hard to describe Megalon because he looked like a mixed dog breed from the otherworld. One eye was brown and the other a milky-grey, both looking wildly in two different directions. He drooled continuously and left a trail of saliva everywhere he went. Young children ran at the sight of him as he patrolled the neighborhood during the day. We lived in the county and there were no strict leash laws at that time. He also smelled like an open garbage can.

His mission was to dig up the body of Catzilla. He could smell him six feet under. He would dig at that spot on the other side of the fence almost daily.

It was as if he was a doggie psychic, knowing there was a dead cat to be reckoned with somewhere on our property.

Junior was much like Catzilla when he was a kitten, also preferring to be inside for the majority of the day. He ventured outside to do his business and to check on Megalon from time to time. My husband and I assumed this was his schedule, as we both worked and Jack went to college, as well. We were both gone for many hours every day during the work week. Junior was at home by himself a lot, mainly because we had no other choice.

I made sure he had an assortment of squeaky toys and fun things to amuse himself. There came a point, however, when nothing was more amusing than teasing and tormenting the drooling, monstrous dog.

The war had begun.

It was little things at first. Junior would steal Megalon's chew bones, and I would find them hidden in our yard.

One time, I found a huge dog bone in the house. It was the largest size the local pet store offered. To this day, I cannot figure out how that little guy got the bone along with himself through the small cat door.

One of Junior's favorite things to do was to flip Megalon's food bowls upside down, spilling his food and water.

Megalon slept outside, and that explained a lot. Who wouldn't smell if they were outside in a dog house all day, every day? Thankfully, his owners would bring him in on cold nights. I must say, there was one good quality about Megalon, he was a tough dog...a real scrapper.

His toughness would be tested in the coming days by our little cat.

Our elderly neighbor two doors down would check our home on extended work days, and make sure the mail was brought in and Junior was behaving himself. She would talk to our cat as if he were her grandchild.

On this particular day, she saw blood, dirt and leaves all over Junior. Nothing too serious, but obviously something had happened. I expected the worst when I heard the report from my neighbor. She phoned me at work to express her immediate concern for her grandcat.

By the time I arrived home, Junior was fast asleep, relatively cleaned up and peaceful. Not much evidence was there for me to examine. I pushed the litter box in front of the cat door as if to say, "stay inside until we have a talk!"

I fell exhausted into bed next to my hubby.

The next morning Junior was up, pacing back and forth. It was obvious he wanted out.

"Okay, but I'm coming with you this morning," I said as I stumbled out of bed.

Who knew this little cat could run and leap like supercat! He was at the gravesite of Catzilla in seconds.

There was the hole all dug up, down to the point where Catzilla's remains laid in a burlap sack. It was still intact. I hurriedly scooped up Junior.

"So...you know about this! You're a smart little thing, aren't you?"

His eyes turned to look at me and then toward Megalon's abode. He had caught the grave robber red-handed!

I marched over to see Megalon while I was holding and petting Junior.

I was still in my pink bathrobe and matching slippers as I hastened towards my neighbor's house. My morning fashion show made my elderly neighbor's head turn, but I didn't care. It felt urgent and necessary at the time.

Megalon saw us, but didn't even bat an eye. I came closer. Still...nothing.

I got close enough to see wounds and scratches all over him. He had definitely gotten into it with something, but...my little cat? This dog was huge and the terror of our entire neighborhood. Now, look at him. I could hardly believe my eyes...a defeated Megalon!

Yes, folks, it's true! David slew Goliath, Rocky Balboa defeated Apollo Creed and Son of Catzilla beat the snot out of Megalon, the dog.

Never, ever underestimate the undercat!