There are those who will say that dogs and cats are always natural enemies. That may have been true hundreds of years ago when canines and felines were competing for the same prey, but I contend the relationship today is much more complex. I give, as example, the friendship of Boots and Butch.

Boots was an orange Tabby kitten, with huge white polydactyl paws. He was a neighborhood stray, being cared for temporarily by friends who suddenly had to move. As the last box of dishes was being loaded in the rental truck, my friend asked, "What are we going to do with Mittens?"

Being the kind-hearted soul that I am, I answered, "I'll take him to the pound. A cat as pretty as he is will get a good home in no time."

I was right. He did get a good home in no time. My teen-age daughter took one look at him and said, "Oh, Mom, I've always wanted an orange kitten." The new kitten stayed, even though we already had three cats and two dogs.

The newcomer asserted himself immediately. He chased and bullied the older cats and cowed the older dog. Butch, on the other hand, became his designated pillow. A St. Bernard/Chow mix, the large dog tried to dissuade the kitten with soft growls, but Boots would not be deterred. Despite the fact that Butch also tried to ignore him, Boots persisted and soon the kitten had a permanent resting-place between the dog's front paws.

"The name Mittens has got to go," I grumbled, two days after the kitten began living with us. He had already chased the other three cats under a bed, tried to climb the drapes and attempted to carry a roast chicken off the table.

"His feet look like he has white boots on instead of mittens, anyway," my daughter said.

"Combat boots," I muttered, but the name stuck.

Boots grabbed pieces of string and played tug-of-war with it, he could leap halfway up the front door after a fly, but when he was tired, he always found Butch. Often he accompanied the dog out into the yard, following sedately behind him. When Butch jumped up on my bed, Boots was quick to join him.

Then Butch got sick. A tumor on his right hip made the once playful and exuberant dog miserable and restless. Boots stayed by his side constantly, licking him, rubbing him and purring, and Butch seemed to appreciate the attention. Finally the time came when we realized Butch wasn't going to get better, and the final trip to the vet was made. My husband carefully picked the dog up and lay him in the back of the van. Boots followed us out. As I reached for the door to close it, the cat jumped in. "Get down, Boots," I said, surprised, because none of our cats liked being in cars. Boots just stared at me as though daring me to make him leave. Sighing, I acquiesced, carefully shutting the door on both of them.

When we arrived at the vet's office, we made Boots stay in the van. For several days after Butch's death, Boots wandered through the house and out in the yard, crying and searching. He finally began acting normally again, but every time he was ready to nap, he looked a little lost before curling up on a towel.

Not too many months after that, Boots was exploring and was hit by a car, but what he and Butch left behind was the gentle reminder that cats and dogs can have a peaceful coexistence, one of companionship and trust. Dogs and cats enemies? No, not always.

(Written about 2000)

Susan Kite is a member of Author’s Guild of Tennessee and has published five books. Check them out at: https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00J91G0ZU/ She has won several book awards in Florida and Oklahoma.