I’m a dog person. I always have been. There is not a very long span in my life where I’ve been dogless, and as long as I can take proper care of him, I plan to always have a dog. There’s just something about that unconditional love, that willingness to do whatever you need him to do, as long as it makes you happy, that fills me with wonder. People could learn a lot from dogs.
I have never been much of a cat person. Cats are okay. I’ve never really had one. Well, Bonnie and I had one years ago, but she was afraid of the dog we had at the time (and for good reason) and she rarely came up from the basement. Fear not, cat lovers; we gave her to good friends of ours who in turn gave her an absolutely charmed life, so things worked out nicely for her. But that’s been the extent of my cat ownership.
Until now.
Enter Kallie. Her name is Kalinda (if you watch “The Good Wife,” you’ll understand), but Kallie sounds better. She belonged to our niece, Mikki, but was living in the garage while Bonnie’s brother was ill. When nature took its course and worse came to worst, Mikki couldn’t take the cat with her, so she begged us to take her home. I was hesitant (Bonnie was not), but we agreed. The nearly two hour ride home with a cat in a cardboard box was beyond interesting…
Kallie is petite, a mere 8 pounds. She’s a domestic longhair, according to the vet, but I prefer to think of her as part exotic and expensive Persian, part Badass, and all Queen. She’s kind of a gray/brown mix of color and she’s got gorgeous, big green eyes. It took her less than three weeks to take over the household.
Our dog, Finley, is the sweetest creature on the face of the earth. He’s a miniature Australian Shepherd with thick fur and beautiful blue eyes. He only wants love and to play tennis ball. He wants to say hi to everybody and be friends with every dog he sees. He’s smart, he’s easygoing, he’s great company. I’ve never met a gentler pooch. He’s my love. If I was a dog, I would marry him.
Finley’s never had a cat either. Watching their relationship develop has been highly entertaining.
His first instinct, of course, was to chase her. We kept him on his leash for the first few days to prevent that from happening. The one and only time he did chase her, he got his nail caught on the carpet and ripped it most of the way off (and bled like a stuck pig). It was very painful and I have to wonder if he doesn’t associate that pain with chasing Kallie because he hasn’t chased her since. Now, they’re buddies. Kallie’s favorite game is to run past Finley and tap him on the head with her paw. She finds this especially fun if Finley is napping at the time. The sweetest part of it is that she never uses her claws. She’s never scratched any of us, which I find amazing.
The biggest difference I’ve noticed is about love. Finley is all love all the time. I don’t have to ask for it; he’s right there with his little nubby tail wagging, ready to lick the skin right off my face if I let him. He follows me from room to room when I’m home and wants nothing more than to be with me at every possible moment. Kallie? Not so much. I have to beg for her love. She’s bossy. She decides when I’m allowed to pet her. If I pick her up and she doesn’t want to be picked up (which is most of the time), she whines and mewls and acts like I’m poking her with needles. My most common line with her goes something like, “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s so awful to be loved by me, isn’t it? How can you stand all the kisses and hugs?” She, too, though, likes to be in the same room with us, which we find interesting. After work, we’re usually in the kitchen, talking and making dinner together, and Kallie will come in and flop right down in the middle of the floor, which cracks us both up. And when I say flop, I mean flop. I’ve never seen a cat on her back so much. This morning, in fact, she was on our bed while I was getting dressed. Totally on her back, all four paws up, watching me. I leaned in close and said, “This doesn’t seem like a very smart position if you want to defend yourself, does it?” She promptly tapped me on the nose with her paw. I stand corrected.
Usually, if I’m quietly reading on the couch or watching TV, she’ll decide it’s time to lie in my lap. Her favorite time to be close? About 3 in the morning, unfortunately. She walks back and forth, first on Bonnie, then on me, then on Bonnie, then on me, trying to get one of us to scratch her head. Not the rest of her, mind you. Just her head. And she has a purr like a freaking chain saw, so she’s not exactly subtle when she shows up in the middle of the night. We can bitch and complain (and we do), but when she’s lying on my chest in the dark and the purr slowly dissipates as her furry little body relaxes and I know she’s sleeping peacefully on me, it warms my heart, fills me with a great contentment.
Does that make me a sap?
