Our crazy cat goes on walks with us, y’all.
It’s not like we ever invited her.
We try to take our rottweiler, Hannah, for a walk twice a day. Well, my wonderful husband does this. ( I admit, I’m a bit of a slacker.) We’ve had Hannah for going on six years now and our cat Pixie is close to ten years old. In the last six months, she has decided to accompany us on these daily walks.
She doesn’t exactly walk. She sort of sprints along for a bit, then stops to rest. Since she’s old, she has that flabby skin hanging down for a belly and it swings back and forth when she runs. She has a habit of trotting along for a ways, then lying down under a bush for a while, then trotting along to keep up with us.
We call her The Gut-Slinger.
I’m still having a hard time figuring out why she does it. We don’t call her, we don’t encourage her. Truthfully, we would prefer it if she’d stay home. We used to have a little routine of walking around the block, but since Pixie has joined the party, we don’t walk out by the road anymore. We’re afraid she might decide to dart out in front of a car, so we keep our route to the open field and the sidewalk around our pond in our neighborhood.
We’ve even tried to sneak off without her. We’ll peek out the back door, and not seeing her on her usual spot on our porch, tip toe out into the yard with Hannah. But before we make it to the edge of the yard, Pixie is trotting up out of no where to follow us.
Hannah, of course, has a collar and a leash. But since she’s a rottweiler a lot of people are afraid of her. Most of the people we meet on our walks will draw back a little when they see us coming towards them with a rottweiler. But then when they see the cat trotting along behind us they do a double take.
“Is that your cat?” they’ll ask, with looks of alarm on their faces. I can almost hear what they’re thinking, y’all. “Why would a sweet little kitty cat be out following a savage breed like a rottweiler, unless it has rabies or something?”
One day a couple we passed paused to give us a wide berth as we went by with Hannah. Then they noticed Pixie about five feet behind us, doing her best to keep up.
“What kind of cat is that?” they asked.
I replied sweetly. “Oh, she’s a trained attack cat.”
The looks on their faces were priceless.