We’ve had Gracie longer than we’ve had our daughter. You would think that growing up with the dog would cause our daughter to love her. At least that’s what I used to think.
But she’s more of a cat person, and to say that she likes cats would be an understatement. It’s rare for five minutes to pass without some sort of mention of cats.
As for Gracie, well she’s just a giant inconvenience to the four-year-old cat lover. She’s not afraid of her, she just doesn’t like to be around her. Gracie’s always in her way, and it’s not like she can just step over the huge furry mound. Plus, she has a bad habit of breathing nasty dog breath right into people’s faces. It’s not exactly pleasant, and I imagine it’s even worse when your face is almost the exact same height as hers.
Gracie looks at our daughter with the same adoring expression that she directs at me. If she wasn’t already stuck on her name, I would call her Nana after the dog in Peter Pan. If we’re all spread out around the house, Gracie goes and lays down closest to where the little one is playing.
Yesterday when we were outside enjoying the weather, Gracie flopped down at my feet — on my toes, always on my toes — and rolled over to show me her belly. My daughter came over and, shocker of all shockers, stooped down and patted Gracie.
“Um, I think I like Gracie now?” she said with a question in her voice, like she still wasn’t so sure.
Gracie wagged her tail.