Fred (aka Fredo, but Dennis likes plain old Fred) and Ginger are playing. Fred is our orange tabby. Ginger is our golden retriever. Fred is hiding under the ottoman and Ginger is trying to get him. Until she gets distracted by the toy she found under there. Sorry, Fred.
Dennis is the object of attention and affection for both Fred and Ginger. He feeds them scraps. He has them following him all around the house. When he sits down, there they are, either on him or next to him.
But Carly, the tortoise shell beauty, is mine. She is not as playful nor as social. She is slightly neurotic. She can't be bought by food. And she loves me for me. When I get home, she meets me at the door and follows me. She's been fed, her water dish is full and the litter box is clean. She just missed me, that's all. She won't be carried or held. But when I pet her, she acts like she'll die if I stop. She never acts this way with any other. And it occurs to me, that I actually belong to her.