Back in 2008, a black cat, about a year old, began hanging out on our porch. We had many feral cats in our neighborhood, but this cat wasn’t one of them. Feral cats skedaddle when a human approaches them. But this cat would permit us to pick him up and put him on our laps and would purr while we sat down on our porch swing and stroked him. We figured he escaped from someone’s house or yard, and so my wife decided to take him in until we could find his owner. I took a picture of the cat and put “lost cat” posters up all around the neighborhood, but no one ever called to claim him.
And that’s how we came to have a cat in our household.
About a year later our, daughter and her husband rescued a four year old, all black shepherd/lab mix from a kill shelter. Two years after that, our daughter and her husband got divorced and they each moved away, so my wife and I offered to “adopt” their dog.
And that’s how we came to have a dog in our household.
Our cat and our dog live together in our home in what can best be described as “peaceful coexistence.” Even though our dog is at least five times the size of our cat and outweighs him by 60 pounds, she typically gives him a wide berth, since, if she gets too close to him (i.e., within striking distance), our cat has no qualms about swatting, claws fully extended, at our poor, hapless dog.
But we love them both and they bring so much pleasure into our lives. We are empty-nesters and our dog and cat are like our children. In fact, my wife often refers to them as her “little black babies.” She’s obviously not bothered by political correctness.
Written for this week’s Tale Weaver prompt from Michael at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. We are asked to write our ‘pet’ story, be it about “the pet you have or once had or some imaginary pet.” Mine is about the pets we have.