Ophelia has begun to fit into our household. She still looks like a watermelon with lots of fur. She’s truly gifted at finding places to hide. She crawls into the cover on Cathy’s bed springs, for heaven’s sake.
But she comes to the living room more often. She sits on top of Cathy’s couch. She runs really fast: Cathy can’t always catch her. We’ll have lots of fun when we have to go to the vet.
The good news is my life continues unchanged. I eat, sleep and go to the dog park.
Every so often my mom says, “I need to get out more.” So on Tuesday we went off to a party…in the Regrade Dog Park, for heaven’s sake.
Cathy’s friends think she needs to get a life. I think Cathy has a terrific life. It’s centered on me and (alas) the cats. What should be different?
I loved the Party. After all, I am a natural social butterfly. I love walking around, collecting admiration,
pats and, best of all, treats! Usually Cathy stops me in mid-bite and she tells everyone, “No treats for Gracie!”
But tonight she got so involved in taking pictures, I got lucky…
…over and over again.
My mom Cathy was reading the Wall Street Journal last weekend, when she came across an article: Is Obama too Fit to be President.
Then Betsy Talbot’s Success Blog posted a review of a new book, The Chic Entrepreneur. Subtitle: Put your business in higher heels. Higher heels? Stilettos? No way.
And Penelope Trunk (author of The Brazen Careerist) laid down the law in her blog post: When it comes to offices, appearances matter.
Cathy was using some words that an innocent dog like me should never hear. I won’t tell you what she’s wearing as she types away at her copywriting business. And we can’t talk about her decorating skills, either. Some people are nesters. Let’s just say Cathy isn’t.
“Who cares about what people look like?” she said, tossing the paper across the room (not in my direction, thank goodness). “We all need to work at home, where no one can see us. Anyway, what would have happened to us if people judged politicians by looks back in World War II? Roosevelt in a wheel chair. Churchill about 100 pounds overweight. And somehow we won a war.
“And why are we still looking up (literally and metaphorically) to women in stilettos? When women can wear comfy shoes,” she concluded, “we’ll have real power. Let’s liberate our feet.”
Well, mom, let’s take my liberated paws and go for a nice walk. I don’t care what I look like, although every day someone gives me a compliment. “Cute dog.” “Beautiful fur.” “Sweet face.”
But I have to be fair. Cathy doesn’t choose housemates based on looks. I looked pretty awful in my Petfinder.com mug shot. And we just adopted a cat that looks like a basketball with fur.
Sometimes dog owners think too much. It’s my job to keep our eye on the prize: dog parks, treats and chew toys. What else matters?
Here’s what happens on a Sunday evening. We’re all tired. Mom’s been working and she moved her laptop to the living room so we could all be together.
Ophelia, our new housemate, got tired of hanging out in the laundry room. So she moved to the closet. And today she
scrambled up on the couch. A classic takeover.
And what am I doing? My mom took me on a long walk today. It was very warm. As you can see, I’m exhausted.
Cathy was so thrilled. Our family is coming together again. Ophelia is fitting in.
Cathy’s got a pile of books to read. She’s always looking for books to recommend to her readers, she says. But I know she’s got a murder mystery tucked away for times when she goes brain dead. Which, in my opinion, happens whenever she spends time with the cats. She isn’t crazy about Ophelia’s name but we can’t think of anything else.
And where’s our other little family member? Yep…sound asleep on her chair. I told you we were all exhausted. That’s how Ophelia gets away with it.
Hey mom, check out this REALLY COOL BLOG by Johann the Dog:
Look at all those videos. I especially like the video of all those humans who help that little dog with agility. What fun!
Meanwhile I’m getting in shape, chasing our new housemate. What a scaredy-cat. She’s just a big mop with fangs. But I suspect she’s here to stay.
Ophelia and Creampuff are watching each other as cautiously as…well, cats. Ophelia doesn’t want to leave her
temporary home in the laundry room.
She’s cowering in the corner.
Dogs don’t operate like that. We make friends right away.
In the photo below, you can see our neighbor Diana, who gave Cathy a ride home from the vet. Diana is checking out Ophelia. Diana seems to be saying, “I’m glad she’s your cat.”
And what am I doing?
There I am on the left…
making a case for the dog park. Business as usual.
Here’s my mom, Cathy, trying to hold our new housemate, Ophelia. 
As you can see, Ophelia’s a big gal. I take up less room on Cathy’s lap, for heaven’s sake.
Good grief. We can’t have any peace around here.
We just said sad good-bys to Tiger. Well, my mom Cathy was sad. I’m philosophical. Cats come. Cats go.
We went to the Seattle Animal Shelter, just to look. Cathy’s neighbors, Diana and Rachel, offered to give us a ride. Yep…you read that right. Us. I went along too. Cathy wanted to show the Shelter folks what a good pet owner she is.
Naturally I stole the show. Everyone kept saying, “What a beautiful dog.”
One of the staff volunteers gave me a toy.
Diana, who drove us down, is holding my leash firmly. I’m waiting for Cathy to finish the paperwork. Isn’t this dumb? When she adopted me, my foster mom just drove me down. She could tell Cathy would be a great owner. This Shelter is more complicated.
And here’s Cathy with the Adoption Volunteer who helped her choose Ophelia. And me. Do I look as bored as I feel?
And here’s the adoptee herself. Can you tell she’s overflowing her carrier? Mom is making all kinds of noise about kitty aerobics.
No problem. I get my aerobics in the park, thank you very much.
But there’s at least one silver lining. With a 17-pound cat, nobody’s looking at my waistline. Welcome, Ophelia!
Mom seems to think our calico housemate Creampuff is lonely. “She needs a cat friend,” she says.
I think Creampuff is ditzy. “She needs an IQ boost,” I say.
But who listens to a dog? Mom fell in love with this kitty at the Seattle Animal Shelter.
There’s her mug shot on the right..
“Meets my specifications,” Cathy says. “Already spayed and declawed. Over 5 years old. Gets along with other animals. Mellow.”
“Read the fine print,” I say. “Overweight. Needs grooming. Spent 30 days in a cage so probably has some issues.”
“Ophelia. A beautiful name,” Cathy’s neighbors said.
“Ophelia? Not for a cat. What about Furball or Fatso?” Cathy said.
For once we are in agreement. But I have a feeling there’s a Fat Furball in our future.
Creampuff seems lost without Tiger. She’s running around, jumping and generally getting herself into trouble. Cathy wants time to get used to Tiger’s absence, but she’s also looking through ads on petfinder.com.
I vote for a kitty who’s humbler than Tiger and smarter than Creampuff. Cathy says I get to go help choose our next housemate. Like I really get a vote.
Meanwhile, I will enjoy at least one more day of one less cat.