I grew up with a cat. Well, a few cats. There was Jingle, the Siamese, Tiger, a scrappy gray tabby, Dusty, a sweetheart of an orange tabby, and Salem, a never-quite-tame but never-bad-luck midnight black wild thing. I also had a bird named Bluebird (yes, I came up with that), a hamster named Rosie, and a goldfish named Lucy.
My point is this: I’m a pet person.
I’ve always had a pet. I don’t know what a house without its resident animal sidekick would be like. Quieter, probably. Less prone to furry tumbleweeds. But also, a little more lonely. A little less lively. At least, that’s how I’d feel about it. I’ve loved all my pets, and I’m lucky now to have Annie, our crazy perpetual puppy…
…and Gatsby, our sweet old gentleman.
Gatsby’s a Maine Coon, and he’s been with me since college. He’s a big cuddly lump who purrs loud, adores sleeping in the laundry baskets, and loves to watch the birds. You know, from his comfy perch inside of the house. Or on TV.
Annie’s an Australian Shepherd with a quick mind, boundless energy, and a deep and abiding love for her human. Yes, just the one. And it’s Graham, not me. But we should all find someone who loves us as much as she loves him.
They both get plenty of snuggles, but I’ll give them a little extra today. They’re animals, so they’ll have no idea why. But they’ll love it nonetheless. And they absolutely deserve it. 😊