Sandy Is Dandy

(My mom got a cat she named Sandy while she was an officer in the military. Sandy was declawed in her front paws before my mom got her. When she moved to a house on a mountain, she took extra precautions to make sure Sandy was in her house at night, afraid that Sandy would be eaten by a wild animal. Come time for her to move, and the moving company comes to take her furniture. She cannot find Sandy.)

Mom: “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #1: “Sorry, ma’am, I haven’t.”

Mom: *to another mover* “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #2: “Sorry–“

(Suddenly, a German Shepherd with its tail between its legs darts between the mover and my mom, followed by a sand-colored streak. My mom’s jaw drops.)

Mover #2: “Ma’am, I don’t think you have to worry a thing about that cat.”

(He was right. Sandy stayed with Mom for over ten more years. Her most arduous trial was tolerating her owner’s first baby pulling her tail.)