My Cat, the Dog
By Dixie Lee Green
I awoke to the rude buzzing of my alarm clock and dreamily I stumbled out of bed, only
to find myself accidentally stepping on my cat's huge paws. I guiltily sputtered,
"Well, get out of the road. You are the only cat I know who sleeps beside a bed
I trudged into the bathroom, closing the door quietly, as not to wake up the rest of
the family. Shortly, I began to hear immense scratching at the door.
"Oh, come on in," I muttered, opening the door to allow our cat to venture in and lay
amongst the towels I had dutifully set out. My shower would not be complete without
the company of our cat.
I love our cat. It was a growing process for me, though my two children had
surrendered their hearts instantly. I had planned for us to have a spayed female,
a tricolored, attractive cat. This cat was just a run-of-the-mill black and white cat.
I'm comfy (not run-of-the-mill!)
"Are you sure you want this cat," I softly sighed, hoping my disappointment would show
and they would see things my way.
"Don't you want a cute cat? He's a male, neutered of course, but don't you want a spayed female?"
"We want him, Mom," they had firmly stated.
Comfy here, too
Begrudgingly, I mouthed, "We'll take him," and without much discussion from me, he was named Simba.
It was that first night Simba was with us that I recognized that there was something a
tad bit different about him. Simba strode agitatedly up and down our hallway all
night long with a meow that sounded comparable to a wolf baying at the moon.
"Oh, my gosh," I complained, "be quiet!"
Twenty minutes later I lay wrapped in blankets on the cold tile floor of the
kitchen, beside the cat, who simply did not want to eat alone.
Is this cat for real?
What brought a genuine laughter to my thoughts was the time I spied him sauntering
around the house with a pencil in his mouth, extremely pleased with his find.
Explaining to him the safety rules, I took the pencil away, lazily throwing it
across the room. Simba fetched it and then brought it back to me! I was totally
convinced that this cat thought he was a dog.
But, isn't that what we had honestly wanted? We really wanted a dog. But,
unfortunately being renters we were not allowed the priviledge of owning a dog and
were forced to become contented with getting a cat. Luckily, our cat behaves
similiarly to a dog! We are exceptionally blessed.
Simba also has an extraordinary aptitude for conversations. He speaks when spoken
to and tends to banter back and forth for a few minutes. I am partial to hearing
his frustrated remarks as he walks away after being sternly told not to drink
water out of the fish tank...
...or when I refuse to let him go outside. "You are an indoor cat."
If only I could comprehend his words. What would they be? Would they be bad words?
I love our cat, and despite his quirks, he is a sincere companion to us all.
Wither I goest, so does Simba. He is the perfect "dog."
Dixie writes and lives with her family, including Simba, in Montana.