Our second dog is a cat.

I’m not the first person to write about this. But here goes:

Myself, The Great Spousal Unit, and The Live-In Niece share our house with a dog and a cat. The dog(Boomer) is a big, loving Golden Retriever who’s a lot of fun but not very smart. The cat(Max) is the first cat any of us have ever lived with. Both are rescues. Boomer spent almost all of his first two years in a cage before we found him. Max was a stray who never left. They both get along famously. Maureen likes to say “Who would’ve thought that our second dog would be a cat?”.

Over the course of the last year and a half that Max has been here, I’ve become increasingly aware of his ability to recognize low glucose moments. Sometimes he bugs me in bed while I’m sleeping. Other times, like last weekend, he walks across my lap while I’m watching TV. Then, he goes into the kitchen, climbs on the refrigerator, and starts knocking things off the top onto the floor until I get up. Then he looks at me, and looks at the fridge. Back and forth, looking at me then the fridge. A quick check with the meter, and it looks like he’s right. I need a BG boost. Once I open the fridge, he hops on the counter and looks at me with those cat eyes until I drink all the juice. And if it’s not enough, he bugs me some more.

Okay, maybe I’m overdoing it a bit. But this cat has a knack. And you’re hearing that from someone who’s definitely a dog person. I’m allergic to cats. Never been a fan. But this guy can stay with us as long as he wants. Unless someone wants to borrow him for a while.

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