Our New Family Member

Growing up, the only type of animals we were permitted to have as pets were dogs. My mom hated cats, and rodents and reptiles were out of the question. We had a Chow named Frisky when I was 4 or 5 years of age. Her stay in our household was short-lived. Though my memory of her is limited, I'm told Frisky was simply too frisky to keep. And she was none to friendly, to boot.

Being the product of a broken home meant that I also had dogs at my dad's house. Belle was a wonderful soul. She was the runt of an English Spaniel litter and came as a package deal with step-mother number one. This pair introduced me to the idea that a dog can be loved through training, and that a well trained dog is much more of a pleasure to have around than a jumpy lunatic who can't tell a sit command from a call for dinner time. Belle lived a long life, and I have no doubt that she went to dog heaven for all her years of family love and devotion.

Next at mom's we had Annie the beagle. I loved Annie like crazy as she was the first pet I truly considered mine. I even had pictures of her in my school locker. As much as I loved Annie, she was a slave to her nose like any hound dog and would go deaf when on a scent. She also ate every disgusting thing you can imagine. There was never a dirty pair of underwear or used tissue safe when Annie was around. To my beloved Annie, these were delectable treats. I once watched her crap out a whole damn sock. It wasn't a small sock either, it was a long tube sock. She died young. I couldn't talk about her without crying from saddness for a good 2 years after she was gone. But, Annie's foibles were enough to make me decide that I will never again own a hound of any variety.

Then there was Bandit who slept with me every night. Bandit was a mutt. She was full of energy and as loyal as every other dog I was fortunate enough to own. When I moved out of my mom's house I felt more guilty about leaving Bandit than I did about leaving my mom.

When I started dating my first husband he had Nikki, a beautiful Dalmation who may very well have been Belle reincarnated. Her disposition was similar and she took to me immediately. As a matter of fact, I think my ex-husband was forever jealous that she so easily became my companion and would wait for me at the door every day knowing it was about time for me to arrive home from work. He never grasped the simple concept that I was the one who showered her with love and affection, that I was as excited to see her as she was me, while he was mostly indifferent to her existance. I cried for days after Nikki was gone. And I still miss her.

Why this long tribute to the pets of my past? Because while I am clearly a dog person, 2x4 is a cat person. So, recently, we adopted a beautiful cat from a local shelter. We named him C.K. Dexter Haven (C.K. or Dexter for short) from my favorite movie of all time (ten points if you can tell me the movie without googling it).

And here's the lesson Dexter has taught me: Cats are totally different than dogs. TOTALLY. I don't understand how attacking me with his teeth and claws means he's happy. Dogs don't do that! Or, at least when they do, it's clear that they're playing. The first time Dexter did this, I FREAKED. 2x4 had to explain that this is normal and he's playing. Call me crazy but I don't think playing should involve sharp instruments.

Dexter seems to get more lively the longer we have him. This morning he got all worked up and was stalking my feet. It led to me yelping, jumping onto the couch, and tucking my feet up under my butt so that they wouldn't be ripped to shreds. You wanna know how he got worked up?! I was lovingly PETTING him. Next thing I knew, my feet were near victims of his happy excitement. With dogs, the difference between a play face and an "I'm really viscious and am about to attack you" face are clearly defined. With cats, they're the same! The "you're a juicy mouse and I'm going to eat you" face is the very same face as the "I love you sooo much that I'm going to grab your arm with my paws and nibble on your hand a little, but it's jut because I'm happy and wanna play" face.

Don't get me wrong, it's only been a couple of weeks and I'm totally attached. I'm an animal person, always have been. I love him despite the fact that he makes me sneeze and makes my eyes water. And he seems to like me as well. We're teaching each other. I'm learning how to interact with animals of the feline variety, and he's learning how to deal with a neurotic human.