We’ve had our dog Daisy for about eight years now. She was about 4 when we got her from our local Humane Society, so that makes her around 11 or 12. She was the first dog in the first kennel in the first building. I knew from the moment I saw her. She came home the next day.
Daisy is a grownup’s dog. She doesn’t particularly care for young children, doesn’t like other dogs and is not too fond of cats. But she loves grownups and is a wonderful alarm system and backup doorbell (barks like crazy).
A couple of months ago, a kitten found its way to our house. He wasn’t even 6 weeks old yet. Not sure where he came from, but we could hear him under the house. My son’s girlfriend coaxed him out and we took him in. He was so little.
My son took him to the Humane Society about two weeks later, where they determined he was about 6 weeks old. After some cleaning and some shots, he needed a name. We decided to name him as if he had AKC credentials, so he is now King Jester Bell Shmoo McMeowmeow aka Getdowncat! Or OutCat! Or CAT!!
Daisy seemed none too pleased. Sometimes, when Jester is acting up or racing through the house, she looks at me as if to say, “Hey, you brought him in here.” Last week, this is what I came home to.
They aren’t best friends yet, but I think in a few months when he calms down a bit and stops trying to box with Daisy as if he’s Muhammad Ali, they may become good roommates. Hope springs eternal!