|Boots and Callie!|
Boots was my first pet. In school away from home, I had the great idea of fostering lots of pets. My first fosters were two tiny 8-week-old kittens.
Socks was the sweet and a good girl. Boots was far-out bizarre.
At two pounds, Boots would crawl up the baby gate to escape her room. She came when I called and would come galloping down the hall to greet me.
When I would study, I'd sit on the floor and chuck my highlighter down the apartment hall. She'd go bounding after it and bring it back in her little mouth.
When Socks the Sweet Normal Cat was adopted, it was hard to watch her go. I realized I couldn't bear to part with Boots... You can guess what happened. We've been together for over a decade.
She's gotten much lazier in her older age (see pic), but she still knows her name and will chirrup when I speak it. She's not the brightest --once, she wailed sadly, over and over, at my reflection in the fireplace glass, till I called her name and her little head whipped around --and she is vindictive and torments the dog, but I have always been her person, and I love her dearly.
Callie is the dog. I picked her up from the shelter ten years ago. All the other dogs there were so excited to get out, and I made sure to spend some time with them, too.
But Callie had only eyes for me. She'd sniff half a second, then come and stare up at me, and press her body against my legs. She is still that way. She will let me --or any kid, or cat --do anything to her. She has been adorned with bows and princess blankets and caps and surrounded by neighbor happy kid riots over the years.
Reader note: pics! pics! pics!
She's afraid of the rain and loud noises, but will come through them or settle if I tell her to. Her only defense is those doleful eyes you see in the picture. Notice who got the 60-lb bed and who got the cat bed. I swear she understands everything I tell her, or at least she tries her best. She is my soulmate.