Cats and Dogs

About a year ago, we got a dog. 

This dog:

 

 

He doesn't normally look squinty eyed--that's from the flash.  He's a mutt.  Jack Russell mixed with something, that we increasingly think includes wiener dog, because he is so long!  I've never really been a dog person.  I've always thought of myself as a cat person.  We had cats growing up, and they are easy.  They are independent, take care of themselves, love-one-person kind of pets. 

 

But this dog.  I am in love with this dog.  He is so funny.  He will go run in circles around the backyard.  He greets every kid when they wake up in the morning.  He'll lay his head on my lap, and he'll lick the heck out of my fingers.  This dog is special.  I bet thousands or even hundreds of thousands of people say that about their very-special dog every day!

 

Every morning when I get up, I let the cat in for water.

 

This cat, who I've had since college, and who after walking to Silver Spring from Gaithersburg came back to me, and now I feel like he'll live forever:

 



Ritz is 14.  He's my first baby.  That growth on his eye has been there the last few years, and the vet says it won't hurt him.  He had to be put outside, because Number Two is highly allergic to cats.  Poor Ritz. 

I digress.  Every morning, I let this cat in to get some food out of the garage.  He stands and eats it out of the bag, because he cannot wait for me to put a dish with water outside.  Also there's some freaking large rodent outside that is continually eating his food.  Ritz has killed several of these things, but they keep coming back! 

Every morning Skippy follows me to the door.  Every morning I tell Skippy to wait and to stay. Skippy obediently sits.  Skippy stays, for about a millisecond, and then as soon as the cat is in, he chases him, shoving his nose up the cat's butt and trying to get the cat.

Ritz takes all of this in stride, pretty much, turning and usually bopping Skippy on the face.

This morning, as I let the cat in, I readied myself for the usual shuffle of claws against hard woods. Of Skippy chasing the cat as if his life depended on it! Skippy ran up to Ritz, and shoved his nose in his butt, and Ritz looked up at me with these eyes that seemed to say to me, "Really?  Do I have to tolerate this?"

I looked down at Skippy, and I said, "Cats don't really like their butts sniffed."

Things you never think you'll say in your life. 

Skippy put his head toward the floor and bowed down, looking up with me with eyes that seemed to say, "I know I was supposed to stay, but I just can't help it!" 

Man...pets...hours of entertainment!