My Dog Cat is Convinced That She Is a Cat
My Dog Cat is Convinced That She Is a Cat . You did read that sentence correctly. My feline friend believes that she is a dog. At the very least, we believe it to be what she considers. It is really challenging to understand what a cat is thinking.
After my future father-in-law made the decision to downsize from his enormous house and move into a condominium, my husband and I were given his cat to care for. Because of how much we adored Pi and the fact that we’d been wanting another cat ever since our last one suffered a stroke, getting Pi wasn’t an issue for us at all. Having her acquire us seems to be the most suitable course of action.
However, there were some issues to deal with. Pi was accustomed to living both indoors and outdoors and was comfortable doing either. She lived in a cul-de-sac community for the first five years of her life, surrounded by enormous mansions on enormous pie-shaped lots. She was free to go anywhere she pleased without anyone fearing that she could be in danger from passing vehicles. She had the opportunity to hunt birds and squirrels at her own leisure. And she did not feel the need to interact with those who took care of her beyond the occasional visit during which she received some food and was petted.
Things began to shift after Pi became a part of our household. We also lived on a cul-de-sac, but the lots were rather tiny, and the one we occupied was not enclosed by a fence. Even though the speed limit in our community was 25, drivers often went up to 50 miles per hour when driving down the street. There were two entrances and exits to our neighbourhood. We had a great deal of doubt that Pi would be able to make it as an outdoor cat in this environment, so we decided to keep her inside.
It’s possible that she wouldn’t have had a problem with it at all. After all, using a litter box wasn’t anything that bothered her at all. In addition to that, she was able to observe the outside world via the bay window in our kitchen. But she never missed a single day of our son and his girlfriend taking their dog for a stroll in front of that bay window, which was in full view of her. The more she saw the dog walk outside, the more she longed for greater independence for herself as well. Soon after that, she developed the habit of rushing to the front door the moment it was opened. And exactly as we had anticipated, whenever she did manage to flee, she headed straight for the heavily used roadway in the area.
We got Pi a collar and leash, but her initial reaction was, “What is this thing?” “Are you crazy? I’m a cat!” Soon after, she came to the conclusion that in order for her to go outdoors and enjoy the fresh air, she would need to be tied.
On the first day, she gave me permission to put the leash on her and take her outdoors. She immediately flopped down on the ground and steadfastly refused to get up. On the second day, she moved forward a little distance before settling herself in the yard. And that was how it ended. Now, after a number of months have passed, she is accustomed to having a person follow after her when she is on a leash. She makes an effort to appear as though she is by herself by strolling lazily around the yard and on the sidewalk.
However, Pi must have been noticing more than simply how a dog is able to walk while being restrained by a leash. She must have witnessed other “dog perks” and taken some of them on as her own since she has adopted some of them.
Pi currently enjoys eating various types of meat, but his favourite is probably hot dogs. In addition to this, she has reached the conclusion that milk and cream are not in the least bit interesting. She wants to lick each dish that a person has ever used to dine on, regardless of whether it was used to eat vegetables, pasta, or meat. Not the case with fish. Pi has come to the conclusion that tuna and other types of seafood are revolting. She will wait patiently at the front door and meow softly until one of her people realises that she is trying to communicate her want to go for a stroll.
Thankfully, she has not completely lost her feline mannerisms. Quite frequently, she has this loud meowing sound that is virtually identical to her yelling my name. “Meooooooooowlyn.” And when I hold her on my lap and tell her that I truly don’t understand what she wants, she swiftly hops down, looking at me over her shoulder with a condescending expression. This happens when I tell her that I genuinely don’t understand what she wants.
I suppose you could still call her a cat in the end.