Peppy Love

When I say that she is an integral part of my life,  I know millions of people understand because pets truly are part of the family.  We love them the way we love our children (at some moments, even more).

For myself, over the years I used to harbor unspoken disapproval of friends who were obsessed with their pets.  I would always think to myself, “That behavior is ridiculous.  That would NEVER happen to me.”  Of course we all know we should never say never.  And of course that was before Peppy came along and I fell in love.

Both of the men in my life are jealous of her.  They each have their reasons.  My husband V says I care about Peppy more than I care about him.  My son Daniel says Peppy always belonged to him and now she cares more about me.  I tell both of them they’re wrong.  (Even though they’re right.)

After 10 years, I can’t imagine my life without her.

Nothing feels better than having her soft and warm and snuggled up close.  There’s no one more comforting; no one else I’d want around constantly, following me from room to room.  Nothing is better than knowing she’s waiting when I arrive home at the end of the day.  She hears the sound of my car and by the time I get out, she’s rushed to greet me along the walkway that leads to our front door.  She immediately flops over onto her back, directly in my path, and waits there– demanding that I rub her tummy before I am allowed to take one more step.  I have to bend down and pat her.  And when she’s satisfied that I have sufficiently inconvenienced myself no matter how many grocery bags I am carrying at the time, she rolls back over and gets to her feet and trots right next to me while I open the door and we go inside.

I’m sure that the scene I’ve just described sounds very familiar for dog lovers all over the world.  But not exactly.

The thing is, Peppy is a cat.

She just doesn’t know that.  Which works out very well because I always considered myself a dog person.