The Little Pack

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.

The pack dynamic is interesting to observe. Jackson hates Cheyenne, and Baby Titten and sometimes even Archie. This has everything to do with his possessiveness and insecurity with me. Except that you will find him occasionally bathing Baby Titten. He loves IO and Dixie and will put up with almost anything from either one of them. Cheyenne lives to provoke, well, anyone, but particularly Jackson and Baby Titten. Her and Dixie are like peas in a pod but they bicker like sisters. More and more Cheyenne is getting the nerve up to challenge IO’s authority. Dixie bosses Jackson and Archie around. She mostly leaves Baby Titten alone, as Baby Titten will chase her down, and I think she is actually slightly afraid of her. Dixie tangled with IO exactly once. Archie and Baby Titten have a complicated relationship. They fight often, and yet they snuggle together often.  During times of tension—if Cheyenne is acting too big for her britches and IO begins to warn her, Jackson and Dixie will quickly begin to stand guard, at the ready to follow IO’s orders. Further, if any single one of them perceives danger, it only takes one to lead the charge, and they all come running. Cheyenne need only make a peep and Jackson is there in a heartbeat, ready to defend her, us, and the rest of the pack if necessary.  As much as they all argue and squabble with each other, at the end of the day, they are a pack and will protect each other at all costs. One time, Jack got into a scuffle with a dog next door that was literally about 3 times his size. That dog pinned him like nothing. Within moments the other 3—IO, Cheyenne and Dixie—were at his side, determined to protect him and willing to take on this horse of the dog. Even more telling, Cheyenne loves this other dog and has played with him on many occasions. But her pack is her pack and she was there for her Jack. It was a normal dog scuffle, nothing more than a tiff really, and the melee was soon broken up. But the incident shows just how deeply pack bonds go and how superficial their spats really are. It really is a bit like watching a big family interact. This living breathing organic web of love we call our little pack.

Yesterday I vacuumed underneath my dresser for the first time in obviously too long and was startled to discover a treasure trove of the animal’s most prized possessions:

• 5 tennis balls
• 2 mouse toys
• 1 mini tennis ball
• 1 hanger
• 3 bottle caps
• 1 sock
• 2 furry puff balls (originally the feet of some toy)
• 4 bones

One day, I was doing laundry and switched the load from the washer to the dryer. I turned it on and heard THUNK.. THUNK.. I thought, hmm.. weird.. THUNK… THUNK.. no shoes.. what the… I opened the dryer and surprisingly Baby Titten leaped out. At the time, BT was about 8 months or so. Still curious. Still a pistol. Apparently she had sneaked into the laundry room and decided to explore her surroundings. Oh my God. I cannot convey the immediate, simultaneous fear and relief that I felt. I grabbed her and held her close, and BT, not a cuddler, and even less so then, clung to me for dear life; our hearts pounded in unison. Her fur was static-y and warm, and I was apparently pale as a ghost. We held each other for what seemed like forever. That was beyond a close call. Although she only went around 2 full times, she could easily have snapped her neck in the short amount of time it took me to open the dryer door. To this day I have a fear of the dryer and even though at 15 and 17 pounds respectively, the thuds would be much louder I have to physically touch each cat when the dryer is going to reassure myself they will not be lost in this horrible way.