In the Spring of 2014 my faithful sheltie dog, Henry, passed away. He had reached the very senior age (for shelties) of nearly sixteen. Because I'm now a senior myself, I decided it would be unwise to sign up for more pet responsibilities so I'm unlikely to replace him.
But I'm not without a furry informant. My cat, Ellie Mae, is handily filling that position. She has excellent hearing, and of course, first-rate night vision. Her suspicious nature verges on paranoia. She is ultra vigilant and certainly lets me know if anything is afoot.
Last summer there was evidence that she got into a skirmish with what I expect was a coyote. Wisely, she now spends most of her time indoors. At night while I sleep, she is always on my pillow and on top of my head -- a sort of deluxe night cap. Her two favourite daytime hangouts are padded cat beds, each one located beside a different facing window. With her tense body language and deep growls, she lets me know if there is anything unusual outside. I appreciate her snitching service.
|Ellie Mae at one of her lookout stations. Halt!!! Who goes there!?!?|
|Ellie Mae was growling at something unusual on our property.|
A red hay wagon had gone A.W.O.L.