Husky News

Several years ago my wife and I chose a midsized white dog at our animal shelter. The vet estimated her age to be three and a half years and with her long hair, curled-over tail and blueberry tongue, thought she was primarily samoyed and chow.

Several years ago my wife and I chose a midsized white dog at our animal shelter. The vet estimated her age to be three and a half years and with her long hair, curled-over tail and blueberry tongue, thought she was primarily samoyed and chow.

Soon after getting Sara we were given a very young kitten, and it was obvious from the beginning that Sara resented him and would probably have chased it down and killed it had we not, with a loud "No! No!", restrained her. She hated having anything share affection with her twolegged creatures.

Opie was gray and white with a bushy tail. He grew up fast and in no time was a big handsome cat that knew how to claw Sara's nose if she threatened him. But, if she caught him off-guard, his flight instinct would evidently send him zooming up a tree.

We never did see Sara chase Opie … but.

Sara and Opie were trained to eat very close together – nose to nose in adjacent bowls, and we enjoyed seeing them occasionally steal each other's food. If Sara turned to Opie's food, he would take a step back and look on, but if Opie ever stuck his nose in or near Sara's bowl, she would growl, charge and snap at him.

Sara and Opie eventually began playing together … sort of. Opie would always initiate the action and after a short response, Sara would walk away as though she was embarassed to be seen having fun with a silly cat.

One day we returned home to find Sara sitting alone in the front yard but did not see Opie anywhere. Finally, a faint, distant meow was heard from somewhere up above. We soon spotted Opie sitting on a branch of a huge oak tree at least 40 feet above the ground.

It is uncanny the way many pets and "owners" communicate through the use of gestures, noises and words … just ask any devoted and caring pet owner. So we asked Sara, as we pointed to Opie, why she had chased him up the tree?

I have never seen such an innocent expression on a dog's face, as Sara sat there with a "who me?" look while poor Opie, perching high above, seemed to be meowing "Don't believe her. She's lying".

On only two succeeding occasions did we go home to see Opie high up a tree, with Sara sitting nearby, on guard. We would scold her with those "Bad, bad dog," words, take her away, and place a tin of sardines upwind from the tree. It wouldn't be long before Opie would show up on the porch, licking his chops.

The last time Opie was seen up a tree, I called to him and he started down head first and lost his grip. His rear end flipped around and he fell 30 feet. Yes, he landed on his feet … on a big mound of leaves that had been piled around the tree trunk. He then walked away nonchalantly, never looking back and apparently none the worse for the experience.

Those wonderful critters that provided so much pleasure for us must have finally come to a mutual understanding and acceptance of their differences. After chasing Opie up a tree three times, Sara finally got the word. They started spending a lot of quiet time together. It could have been that Opie refused to ever be intimdated again or Sara didn't want any more severe scoldings from the two-legs.

Opie went to cat heaven a few years ago, and Sara at age 100, in human years, walks with me every day. She has lost her hearing, but the eyes and nose are still working just fine, thank you. Neither of us is very swift nowadays. If we encounter a cute rabbit or a pretty woman, we just look and keep ambling along; and, if I happen to notice a silver-lined cumulus cloud drifting overhead, I wonder … just wonder if perhaps ole Opie is perched on it, keeping one eye on Sweet Sara Lee … just in case.

Source: Smoky Mountain Sentinel