Nine years ago today, a black-and-white cat — he was actually a large kitten, but we didn’t know that at the time — leaped up onto our porch, saw me sitting there, and started to beat a retreat.
“Oh, no, it’s okay,” I said, and he changed his mind and came on over to see me.
Reader, we kept him.
And so we call today “Archie Day,” a quasi-holiday traditionally celebrated with a cupcake or two (usually a “black-and-white” flavor, like Oreo). It’s not so much that our other pets haven’t deserved days of their very own — they have — it’s more that thanks to social media, we have a definitive record of the day we met Archie.
In a way, we use Archie Day to remember and celebrate all our pets, past and present; all of them have come into our lives via serendipitous means, and they’ve all been exceptional, in their own special ways.
Archie’s our only pet now, and as I often say, he may be the most sweet, gentle, and loving cat we’ve ever had (which is saying something). I won’t dwell on this, but the last several years have been difficult here at the House of Brouse, and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him.
After all, he comes running when I whistle show tunes for him — he’s fond of “With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal” from The Pirates of Penzance, but is positively over the moon about “Singing In The Rain.” How can anyone not love that?
And every Thursday, he growls at the garbage truck, with the briefest of “GRRRRRRRR”s, causing it to flee. In fact, his efforts prevent the garbage truck from coming around our house again for a whole week!
Archie is courtesy itself, and often brightens our day with frequent head-bumps (“Just saying ‘hi'”), paw taps, and little, pleasant, fangy grins.
So … happy Archie Day to everyone.
Treasure your animal friends.
I should note that the text of this post has been adapted from various Facebook posts I’ve written about Archie over the last nine years.
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