My Dog, the Bird

It was Sunday morning. I was sitting on the couch reading the paper with Ray curled up next to me; Hugo was in the front hall glaring at him.
"C'mon, Hugo. Come in here," I said to the cat patting the couch next to me.
Hugo looked at me, then nervously walked a little closer. He put his front feet on the floor of the living room and sat his butt down on the rug in the front hall.
"C'mon, Hugo," I urged again, patting the couch. "C'mon, brave boy."
Hugo didn't  budge.
I looked at Ray. His eyes were open and his eyebrows were alertly doing the dance on his forehead. He was biding his time, waiting for the cat to come closer. Hugo could see Ray's open eyes and knew he was being watched. He wasn't going to move.
I took one page of the newspaper and gently placed it over Ray's head to hide his eyes. The crease of the page fit perfectly along the ridge of his bony skull.
As soon as Ray couldn't 'see' him, Hugo bravely entered the living room and came over for a pet. Like a parrot in a draped cage, Ray stayed immobile.
Huh.