The Little Pack

… are my favorite. We sleep in, well, actually, I should clarify. We attempt to sleep in. Like clockwork, Cheyenne and Dixie are ready to roll around 7, sometimes 7:30. We argue over whose turn it is to deal with them, take them out and try to keep sleeping. However. They have other ideas. Before we know it, we are grudgingly getting out of bed, making coffee and trying to wake up. Soon we are drinking coffee, chatting, surfing, and hanging out with the whole pack. Cheyenne and Dixie are in and out, in and out. Dixie is soon woofing for food. Jackson is bringing me a toy. But it is a nice reprieve from the week.

The animals often curl up in inappropriate places. Here Baby Titten feels inspired to sleep on my laptop sleeve. Its entirely possibly that the laptop was recently on the sleeve, therefore making a warm place for her to curl up. She is the ultimate spot stealer, often appearing out of thin air to take our places (and the dogs’ as well!) when we get up, and loves to curl up on the (formally) clean laundry right out of the dryer for the warmth.

I love coming home to all my animals. Sometimes I can see Cheyenne’s silhouette from a half mile away, her ears visible even at that distance. Sometimes Jackson is in the yard. When he sees me he rejoices, and takes a wide lap around my car. He runs around to the driver’s side door and I open the door and he sails into the car, over my lap and lands in the passenger seat, tail a-wagging and we drive into the garage. I am greeted with barks and yips and a cacophony of celebratory sounds from the other side of the door. “Hold your horses, I’m coming!!” I say. As soon as I open the door, there are more tails wags, hops, kisses and wiggles and regardless of my mood, it is absolutely impossible not to feel joy at this welcome. The cats soon seem to appear out of thin air, weaving in and out of the dog’s limbs, looking up at me with their sweet faces and it is in these moments that I realize how blessed I am.

Mornings are a special time in the Little Pack household, packed full of sweetness and celebration. IO very often greets me with nose nibbles and headrolls. These are clearly joyful acts. Once I start to stir, Jackson and IO will often begin to bark and carry on with celebration while Cheyenne races back and forth next to the bed, wiggling all the while. Archie waits at the bedroom door and purrs the moment he sees me.  Everyone races down the hallway. Baby Titten sits on the arm of the couch and burrupts as I walk by and I pat her on the head. Dixie speeds ahead into the kitchen and leaps and twirls around, woofing. She wants  a morning snack. Archie also gallops into the kitchen, bounds up onto the counter and waits by the sink for me to turn his water on. Meanwhile Jack rejoices that he found his favorite toy and asks me to throw it. Sometimes IO lingers in bed a little longer, catching a few more zzzzs before strolling out to the living room to wait for a few last bites of my breakfast.  All of this takes place while I am on autopilot, still in stupor. I am not a morning person, in fact, I can barely function when I first wake up. It occurs to me just how sweet these waking hours are, and how ironic that it all takes place while I am still too unconscious to fully treasure and savor each moment the way that I would like to.

1. I love her determination. Once her mind is made up, she will not give up. Ever. It’s not so cool when she has her mind set on my sandwich or a drink, but the determination itself is admirable.
2. She is very brave. Our little warrior kitty. When she has had enough from the dogs (and she puts up with a lot, trust me), she lashes out at whoever is tormenting her. I have seen her chase down Cheyenne on more than one occasion, and to review, Cheyenne is 40 pounds to BT’s 15. And Dixie(who is a warrior in her own right)… well, let’s just say that BT is certainly unafraid of a dog smaller than herself. I have seen Dixie running away from Baby Titten many a time, with BT giving chase and just letting her have it the whole way.
3. All of her vocalizations. Every one. The pathetic, the furious, the purrs.
4. The way she sometimes stalks me down the hallways. Usually I crack up and break the spell, but sometimes I am able to able to pretend as though I haven’t noticed what she is doing. When she finally reaches me, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, and tries to act nonchalant, but instead just awkwardly stands there looking really guilty while simultaneously trying to shrug it off, as if to say, “What? Who me? Oh, you must be mistaken. I wasn’t doing anything.”
5. She may be a fighter but she will put up with more from me than anyone else.
6. Her devotion is doglike. Especially to her string. (But to us as well).
7. She can contort her body into the smallest, most unimaginable positions to take advantage of the tiniest bit of sunshine.
8. The dark brown in her coat is the color of hot fudge, and the light brown is the color of butterscotch.
9. The way she waits for me to get out of the shower in the morning, stands right by me as I dry off, and then complains that she is getting wet. She does this to my husband also.
10. She is unapologetic for who she is. So when I think about it, she is truly a very strong female role model–yeah, yeah, say what you will–but she knows what she wants, she goes after it with an unflagging will, fights for it, and never regrets her actions. Seems to me there is plenty to admire in that. And quite honestly, I do.