When my family first moved into our new house on Melody Lane East, we had no pets. One day we went to the park. The parents went one way, the kids went the other way. Soon, our (I must clarify, I was one of the kids) attention was drawn to a small, sleek, black dog that was RACING around the playground. She was surrounded by a sprinkling of shouting children, one particular who was screaming that she was a vicious pitbull and was attacking people. Karen and I took one look at her and knew it was a hysterical lie. The puppy looked terrified. We caught her (no mean feat) and decided upon a scheme. Er, plot. Uhhh...plan. Karen was the youngest, and therefore the cutest. She, the Cutest, would hold the cute puppy and put on her sweetest face and I, the spokesperson Big Sister would do the talking. We took her home with us.
We put an ad in the paper to check for owners. Nobody responded and we kept her.
We named her Abigail, after Abigail in the Bible. My mom said that Abigail in the Bible was beautiful AND intelligent. Just like our puppy.
Actaully, she's kinda funny looking. She looks like a little black seal...sort of. She's supposedly a dachsund/lab mix...looks sort of like a long-legged dachsund.
Abigail has been a WONderful dog for the last ten years. She is well behaved, smart, and still very very fast. She's a miniature member of our family.
A couple of years back, in the dead of winter, a scared kitty showed up on my parents' front porch. She was terrified of all people. But she was very cold and hungry. But she was terrified of all people. Very cold. Very hungry. Very very scared. She would sit 20 feet away from the house and meow piteously at us. We would all take turns going out to try to coax her into the comfort of the house and she would take off. After two or three weeks of this craziness, she finally gave up enough to let someone catch her and bring her in.
She's never really warmed up, apparently. She's still terrified of all people...except my mom and dad. And she's not sure about them because they allow my loud, scary, AFFECTIONATE children to visit at least once a week. Oh, the horrors.
Her name is Gatita, Spanish for "female cat." My mom was a Spanish minor. It happens. *grin* We usually just call her "the cat" like many families I know. Abigail in horribly jealous of any affection that is bestowed upon her, but she shouldn't be. Abigail really is part of the family. Gatita really is just The Cat.
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