Toshi and Bridget

Toshi and Bridget live in my house. Our kids call us a family of six.

Toshi arrived first. The reason we went out looking to adopt was that we wanted a guard dog for the house after someone broke in during the night. While we were inside, sleeping. Not a good feeling, not reccommended, no stars, can't dance to it, did not buy the tshirt, would not buy again. But that's a story for another post... if I hadn't already posted about it and forgot, like the butterbrained donkey's rear I am.

Anyway, we considered adopting some larger dogs we could keep in the backyard, since that was the entry point for the robber. We soon realized large dogs are probably not the thing for small kids, and even smaller pockets. By the time we'd considered two or three dogs, I'd gotten it into my head I just wanted a dog, period. As in, circumstance wasn't gonna get in the way of an idea that had proven to be somewhat impractical for our family, I was getting a dog BECAUSE.

So one day we went to the shop and there was Toshi. A black, skinny bag of nerves who seemed to trust no one but her rescuer. I was worried he'd never warm up to us when we got him home, but with time and a little patience he stopped sleeping in front of the door, or on the very spot on the couch where her rescuer had sat when she dropped him off. And then he seemed to imprint on me. He still follows me around EVERYWHERE. He sits outside the bathroom. He sits wherever I stop for more than 5 seconds when I'm doing chores. He got fat. He's as happy as a neurotic little chihuahua with separation anxiety issues can be.

Then Bridget happened. Regina, my oldest, had gotten it into her head that she wanted to adopt one of the stray cats in our neighborhood. She had her eye set on one, a large, gorgeous gray tabby with the most luxurious coat you can imagine. Sadly, at the time I could only imagine it on the rug... and my love seats... and my sweaters... and my bed... We did not adopt that cat. 

There were also some smaller cats running around, and one of them caught my eye because she seemed taken with my daughter. She also had a short coat and kept herself pretty clean. So into the house she went, the queenly little calico we named Bridget.

Toshi hates other dogs. He'll run up to them and raise the hair on his back like a little tasmanian devil and bark up a storm. He's fiercely protective of his territory, which spans all of five or six houses. He'll bark at anyone of the human or dog persuasion he does not know. But he tolerates cats.

So now Toshi and Bridget share living quarters. They don't play, because for some puzzling reason, Toshi doesn't play. He has puppyhood issues we will never quite figure out. Bridget wants to play, Toshi yelps. But Toshi is sad when Bridgets stays outside climbing trees, pouncing on pigeons or hunting for bugs. They can share a bed, but not at the same time. Toshi fears the moment Bridget will get playful when they lay in close proximity. 

But they're buds. They heve an understanding. Toshi thinks Bridget's kibble is tasty and she tends to look the other way when he grabs a nibble from her bowl. Bridget will sometimes knock a pizza box off the table so they can share the spoils. Toshi keeps guard when Bridgets jumps on the counter, then acts like he's scolding her when we make her get down. Sometimes I wonder if they can tell they both went through it at some point before finding their way into this house. Toshi, small, afraid, covered in parasites. Bridget, safe and warm inside while neighbors kill off the stray cats in the neighborhood, including the beautiful tabby with the gorgeous coat.