Let me tell you a story about Bob,
the cat...
who thinks he's a dog.
Bob, a Manx, showed up at my parents one day
at just the right time.
He may have belonged to someone
because he wasn't skinny or malnourished,
but I like to think he was just a good hunter.
Or that he didn't like his old home.
They didn't encourage him to hang around.
But they noticed him
each day, returning to their back patio.
And scouting around, like
outdoor cats do.
I say it was just the right time
because even though my dad
likes cats,
he always said he didn't want another one,
after his last cat died.
He's had a few grandcats,
here and there to play with,
but not one to call his own.
He needed Bob
as much as Bob
needed him.
Or so I like to believe.
My mom decided that if that cat
was going to hang around so much,
he wasn't going to go hungry.
They'd have to feed it.
With no cat food in the pantry,
Dad decided to give Bob the cat
some sardines.
My Dad loves sardines,
as apparently Bob did too.
I'm pretty sure that was the
defining moment
for Bob.
From then on,
Bob showed up day after day,
ready for some food and some special
attention.
Now, here's where it gets interesting.
Bob isn't just any old ordinary Manx,
tail-less, orange cat.
He thinks he's a dog.
My dad would ring the back porch bell,
and Bob would come running.
Sometimes Dad would whistle instead.
Bob sprung onto the porch each time.
He had no interest in coming inside the house.
I don't think Mom and Dad had any interest in him
coming in either.
They knew that if he came in,
he'd probably become their cat.
Permanently.
They hadn't gone looking for a cat anymore
than Bob was looking for a home.
It just happened.
We've always teased my dad because he
does weird things with his grandcats.
He talks to them.
Actually he asks them questions.
Like,
"How are you doing today, kitty?
Huh? How are you?
How you doing kitty?"
I'm pretty sure he knows that cats don't talk.
but couldn't swear to it.
He also pets them hard like a dog.
And they seem to like it.
He sometimes gets his broom
and "brushes" them.
Yes, it seems a little strange.
But they always like it.
When Mom and Dad decided to finally
start opening the back door to see if
he wanted to come in,
and get out of the cold,
('cause see, they worried about that cat,)
he would come up to the threshold,
but never over it.
Dad says sometimes he would kind of
crouch, like maybe he had been
kicked out of the house a few
times...literally.
As time went by, he'd come in a little further
each time, until he finally
felt safe enough to walk on in.
That's when the mutual love affair
between a cat and his two people
Bob was an outdoor cat at heart.
He meowed to go out each evening.
Then by morning, he'd
show up at the back door,
ready to come inside and
eat, sit on my dad's easy chair,
and sleep.
He gradually started lengthening his
indoor time, until he was
spending the night indoors most nights.
Remember now,
Bob the cat
thinks he's a dog.
He doesn't use a cat box.
He meows at Mom to go outside,
and waits for her by the door.
He follows my dad around like a dog -
sits and waits for him to come out
of the bathroom,
walks with him to the mailbox.
walks with him to the edge of the yard
while Dad visits with his neighbor
across the street.
Bob won't go all the way with him because he's
not too fond of his nemesis there...
a real dog.
Tonight after being with Bob
and the family,
I'm feeling a little happy inside.
Happy that Bob, an old stray Manx,
and Dad, my old man...
(I say that lovingly with all my heart)
found a special unexpected
friendship
in each other -
Dad
and the catdog.
Remember that cartoon and song
from Nickelodeon?
photo courtesy of Yahoo
