Tortietude

One day Dee Dee and the tall, dark-haired one came to see me. Dee Dee picked me up and was happy when I started purring. I was happy too. She was especially excited because I am polydactyl, just like their cat, Samantha, who had sadly died six months before when she was almost 20 years old. I thought I might go home with her, but she left without taking me. I was sad because I really liked her.

The next day she came back! But this time she brought a dog with her, a large golden retriever who cluelessly started sniffing around the room. A volunteer picked me up and brought me over to the dog, and he walked over and stuck his nose in my face. I recoiled slightly (naturally!) but was unimpressed by him. Apparently they thought I might be afraid of the dog -- me, a tortie, afraid of a silly dog? If anything, the dog seemed a little nervous of me. I must have passed the dog test, because a few minutes later I was put into a cat carrier and brought to my new home. I was very curious and spent the first evening exploring every corner of the bedroom, and that night I slept curled up against Dee Dee's neck on the bed. We were both very, very happy.

Three years have passed and I am master of the house . . . and the dog. I try to play with him, but he flinches and moves away. This annoys me, so later I run up to him and smack him in the face with my paws (no claws, of course), or I just dart out from behind a chair when he passes by. It's so much fun! I am one lucky cat. I love Dee Dee, she loves me, and I love Frank, the tall, dark-haired one, but he is more like a brother. Dee Dee is Mama Cat. This is a very happy birthday!