The Great Adventure

At first Tabitha didn’t say or do much. She was so quiet the Old Man’s neighbors hardly knew he had a dog. She would sit for long periods leaning against the wall, or the porch railing, simply staring. Often she would spend time looking up. She would look up and stare at the roof, or maybe at the clouds or at the birds. It was hard to say what she was looking at. Or thinking about. The thought that she wasn’t very clever crossed the Old Man’s mind, but her bright eyes made him realize this wasn’t so. Poor Tabitha had likely not had an easy life so far. She was probably just shell shocked and scared and not sure if she had found a real home. She just needed time to adjust.

A leaning dog looking upwards is an unusual sight. Sometimes, as he watched her, the Old Man wondered what Tabitha’s puppyhood had been like. Where was she born? Who were her parents? Why had she been a stray? Did she run away from home? Or was she tossed out? He realized, of course, that he would never know. That thought seemed somehow sad to him.

Tabitha’s droopiness was just fine as far as Peewee was concerned. This wasn’t because Peewee was afraid or anything like that. Well, maybe a little at first, but he was by no means one of those timid or skittish cats that hide under the bed or behind the cupboard and shy away from strangers or company. Far from it. Ever since he had come out from under the tub Peewee had been an upfront kind of cat. You could tell by the way he would recline propped up on one arm with the elbow straight out and stare you dead in the eye, just like John Wayne at a whiskey bar. And whenever a neighbor would come by for a bit, Peewee would jump up into his or her lap without ever asking. And if the neighbor was trying to cuddle Peewee and wasn’t careful, Peewee might bite his or her nose. It was just a little bite, meant to be taken as a sign of affection, but a bite nevertheless. And Peewee didn’t just bite neighbors. He would nip at Joyce’s and the Old Man’s noses too, and no matter how much they tried to explain to him that humans didn’t really like that sort of thing, it never helped. It was just too much a part of Peewee’s personality, and so they sometimes had to call him the ‘Little Chili Pepper’. No, Peewee was not shy or retiring. He had, after all, proved it to Tabitha the moment they first met.

Peewee didn’t mind Tabitha’s droopyness because it meant he could go through the day ignoring her as if she didn’t exist. He could prove that a dog was incapable of upsetting his equilibrium. This was important for his cat pride. Cats don’t like changes in their routine, especially if dogs are responsible. As long as Tabitha kept to herself Peewee could exhibit a dignified indifference.

It was also important for Peewee to make sure Tabitha understood that he was top dog (or cat, actually), the alpha, in the family. It may seem that this was taking advantage of a poor puppy who was a newcomer and was still recovering from tough times, but Peewee didn’t think so and Tabitha took it all in stride. She was, after all, a dog, and dogs feel comfortable in a hierarchy. A hierarchy, even if she was at the bottom of it, meant she finally had a home. And since her new home was safe and comfy she wasn’t about to complain. And besides, she was probably too young to be much of an alpha dog anyway.

Peewee, like it or not, had to accept some changes in his lifestyle. For one thing, the Old Man now began placing his food bowl on the kitchen counter instead of on the floor. This was done, thoughtfully, to keep Tabitha from eating all the cat food, as a dog undoubtedly would. And you might think that this wasn’t really much of a change anyway. And even if it was a change worth getting hot and bothered over, you might think it could actually be considered a promotion, since Peewee could now eat on the same level as the Old Man. But that would assume you were not a cat. To a cat it was insulting. First, simply because it was a change in lifestyle for which a dog was directly responsible (oh the shame of it all!) And, second, because it meant he had to hop up to eat. That was outrageous and uncivilized.

Peewee resented this inexplicable (to him) change in routine until he discovered a silver lining. It was actually a really good silver lining. He noticed that when the Old Man called them over to eat, and he jumped up on the counter, he could glare down at Tabitha as she approached her bowl. And to his great joy he discovered that, as he glared at her, Tabitha understood this to mean that she had to ask him for permission to eat. Why she would think such a silly thing was beyond Peewee, but it was really great that she did. He could scarcely believe it, but she would sit and look up at him and wait. It was only when Peewee went over to his bowl and started eating that she felt she was allowed to eat.

For a month or two such were the rhythms and routines for the two animals: the cat was imperious and distant, the dog grateful for a home and accepting of her low station. Until one day. On that particular day Peewee was napping on a chair and Tabitha, having nothing much else to do trotted up to see what he was doing. Seeing the cat was asleep, she proceeded to noisily sniff him in a very dog sort of way. This, of course woke the cat up.

Peewee was not particularly amused at having his catnap so rudely interrupted. He took his John Wayne pose and scowled at the dog. Tabitha, blissfully unaware of any guilt on her part, sat down and cheerfully looked at the cat. There they sat, inches apart, separated only by the rails on the back of the chair.

After a few minutes of failing to out-stare Tabitha, Peewee sat up, stuck his arm between the rails of the chair’s back, and took a good swat at the dog’s big black nose. A good swat with razor claws. Peewee wasn’t sure why he did this. Maybe it was just because he felt like it. Maybe the nose was just too juicy a target to ignore. Maybe he did it because of the humiliation of not being able to stare down a lowly dog. Or maybe he just wanted to see what would happen, perhaps expecting an angry reaction from the dog. This might hopefully lead to a really good scolding by the Old Man.

Whatever the reason for the sharp clawed swipe, it didn’t work. Tabitha ducked and Peewee missed the big black nose. Peewee, surprised and humiliated by his failure, looked at Tabitha. He noticed something suddenly seemed to have changed in her expression. Her eyes were bright and the light danced in them. Her face was self-confident and her body sprightly. This was really bad news as far as Peewee was concerned, and there was only one thing to be done. He took another sharp clawed swipe through the chair rails at the offending big black nose. Tabitha ducked again and Peewee missed again. And then, to Peewee’s horror, Tabitha began to egg him on. She cheerfully bobbed and weaved her head like a boxer, like Ali doing rope-a- dope, opening her mouth in a playful smile, daring and provoking Peewee to try again. Peewee obliged and Tabitha dodged the strike yet again. Before long the two were engaged in what was by now a really good game of swatting and dodging between the chair rails. And Peewee wasn’t really sure how this was possible, how it could have happened to him, a self respecting cat, but he had to admit to himself that he was kind of having fun.

The next day, Tabitha, having also had a good time, decided to see if she could initiate some action. As Peewee was walking along, svelte and elegant as a cat should be, Tabitha bounded over, all bouncy and playful. This was not the sort of approach Peewee expected or demanded. A little more respect and deference was what was in order. But to his horror it didn’t end there. Tabitha came to a screeching halt, stuck her paw out and took a swipe at Peewee. A swipe just as if she were a cat! But she wasn’t, she was a dog, so the the swipe had no speed, no grace, and no razor sharpness. Instead it had a clumsy strength to it, and she managed to pin Peewee down under her big fat (to a cat) paw.

Peewee was shocked. The indignity of it all was appalling. To be pinned down by a dog was bad enough, but to have it done by a move Tabitha had brazenly copied from him, that was beyond unacceptable. Dogs were not supposed to use their paws to swipe. Period. The dog needed to be taught a lesson she wouldn’t forget. Peewee, with as much grace as he could muster, extricated himself from under the paw and immediately attacked. He leaped up on to Tabitha’s back, grabbing her neck with sharp claws and sinking his teeth into her spine, like a lion bringing down a zebra. Tabitha twisted just enough for Peewee to lose his hold and drop on to the floor.

Peewee landed with great elegance, of course, but that wasn’t the point. The fact was that once again he had been bested by the dog and that was not tolerable. To run now would be sheer humiliation. Peewee had no choice but to face the dog, right there, on the ground, nose to nose. And to keep his pride, he had to do it in style. He got up on his hind legs and dared Tabitha to come any closer. As she did, he unleashed his claw, sharp and blindingly fast. Tabitha tried to duck, but Peewee connected and was rewarded with a tuft of dog fur stuck in his claws. But Tabitha, who had really long and thick fur like the terrier she was, didn’t really feel much pain.

As long as Peewee missed her nose this was also a good game. Tabitha smiled and bounced around and Peewee struck again and connected again and got some more fur. Then he saw his chance and once more he leapt on to Tabitha’s back. And Tabitha twisted again and down came Peewee. And so it went and this too became a game, and Peewee had to admit it was great fun.

Over the next week or so Peewee and Tabitha would play a game here or there, always initiated by the dog and then reluctantly acknowledged by the cat as being great fun. And soon the playing became more complex and began to include hide and seek and wrestling and chasing. Peewee eventually had to swallow all his pride and admit that he was having a much better time with the dog around. And if that weren’t bad enough, there was the thought that he, Peewee, was responsible for Tabitha’s coming out of her shell. If he hadn’t taken that one swipe through the chair’s back he might still be able to ignore the dog and tell himself that that was the best way to live with Tabitha. But in the end he forgot about all of that because life was much more fun with a playmate. Before long Peewee found that he and Tabitha were the best of friends. They became inseparable.