Mickey — The Cat Who Thinks He’s a Dog

Mickey has never quite understood that he’s a cat. He trots instead of gliding, thumps instead of tiptoeing, and announces himself with the confidence of a creature twice his size.

He follows me everywhere — not in the aloof feline way, but in the loyal, tail‑wagging spirit of a dog. He supervises laundry, inspects groceries, and patrols the hallway like a security guard with a soft purr.

When I’m writing the memoir, especially the heavy chapters, Mickey seems to know. He climbs onto the chair beside me, curls into a loaf, and settles in with the seriousness of a small, whiskered therapist.

He brings humor to the serious chapters and warmth to the quiet ones — a character in his own right, both in the house and in the story.