“Where do we live, Jake? Where do we live?” Jacoby’s human cheered him down the hallway in the game they played every time they came home from an outing. Even though their hallway was plain and all the doors looked alike, Jacoby never got confused and he never stopped at the wrong door. No other doorway smelled like home.
She opened the door and they went inside. Jacoby flopped down on the floor so his human could unfasten his coat-harness. He was carefully licking away the dents in his fur when Angel walked up, sniffed his foot, and let out an explosive hiss. She hissed at him all the time anyway, but this was a particularly violent reaction.
“You were talking to those cats again!” she accused him, saying the word “cats” the way most cats said “bath.” “You were talking to those dirty outside cats in that dirty shed!”
“So what if I was?” Jacoby asked. “What’s wrong with talking to cats?”
Angel glared at him with her one eye. “What’s wrong with it? Well, for starters, they aren’t Abyssinians. Secondly, we don’t know what they are! They don’t even know what they are!”
“They’re cats. Everyone knows what they are,” Jacoby shot back, rolling his eyes. He saw what was going on, now. It didn’t make any sense, considering he was the registered, certified, prize-winning, documented-to-the-beginnning-of-the-breed pedigreed Aby and she was the unknown mystery rescue Aby. He shrugged. Maybe she needed to prove to herself she really was an Abyssinian. Still, you’d think she’d be more understanding.