Pet

When we first brought Cat home, when I was about 15, he quickly got attached to his best friend, Pet - a stuffed kitten from the pound puppies collection circa 1991. It's this gray kitten, with arms and legs that go straight out and a skinny tail that goes straight up. Cat and his Pet became fast friends, and where Cat went, there went Pet also. Pet moved to St. Louis with Cat when he moved in with Zach, and then also made the relocation to Arizona soon after. I'd even go so far as to say that he transitioned to the new location faster than Cat did.
When we took Cat back for this summer, his trusty friend came along as well. Poor Pet has not aged well. Once a crisp gray tot, Pet has lost sight in one eye, has scars and wrinkles everywhere, and just can't seem to take good care of his hygiene anymore. His bowels are extremely loose - I find stuffing stuck to him in his more ashamed moments. But he's ever faithful to Cat, and Cat treats him well in return, making sure he's comfortable and noticed. He takes him to the most comfortable spots outside my door, and even invites him under my bed for a nice, peaceful nap when Cat isn't using it.
     In fact, Cat takes such good care of Pet, it's beginning to encroach on some previously set boundaries between Cat and us regarding our living arrangements.
     This morning, right around 5:30-6am, I was drifting between sleep and wakeful states, waiting to be woken by my brother and his family to say our 'goodbyes' and 'drive safes,' and I found myself overheating a little, despite the fan pointed directly at me. I stretched my arm across my bed in search of a cool spot, and I felt a small lump. I had kicked Cat out of my room hours previously after he began racing around my room, the catnip finally hitting him, and my little black cuddle pillow had already fallen to the floor, so I was a little concerned. I grasped for the lump and opened my left eye enough to gain blurry vision. There, staring back at me through one good eye itself, was Pet, comfortably snuggled into my bed, seemingly from a kind intention of Cat to take care of his best friend in it's old age. Not personally fearful that ol' Pet needed much warmth and comfort, I threw him across the room, silently cursing Cat for breaking the rule that no dirty pets are allowed on the bed! I then laughed to myself at the cute thoughtfulness of Cat, and then wondered how long it would take Pet to miss the luxury of a warm bed.
     How real had Pet become in the last few years? I always believed that "Toy Story" was based on a true story, and my younger years convinced me that my pound puppies were actually alive, or willing to be so. Perhaps Pet had figured out on his own how to get in the bed earlier? Should I be nervous he'd attacked my bare arms, following the example of Cat? I quickly hid my toes a little deeper into my blanket.
     Later this morning, after getting up and eating breakfast and coming back down to clean my room from the last week's activities, I found Pet had somehow travelled from the hallway where I had kicked him when I got up, to the other side of my bed again, poised to jump up and nestle his way into the blanket again. It freaked me out a little. I don't know how he does it, but he found his way into my room two more times today. Apparently he finds it as comfortable as Cat does. I suppose I'll let him move in here - now I've got another to blame when my room gets messy. "I swear it's not me! Pet keeps throwing my clothes everywhere! I can't make my bed right now, Pet's napping and I don't want to disturb him!" Perhaps she'll buy it.