The Fierce Sailor Jerry

    We got our cat from the animal shelter after he'd been there for almost a year.  No one wanted him.  He still had his claws, had a fierce reputation, and didn't know how to purr.  We were looking for a mouser, to maintain patrols at the wood pile in the back yard.  His name was Sailor Jerry.  Who can resist a cat named Sailor Jerry?  He was perfect.
    "Do you have a dog?" they asked us.
    "Yes."
    "Oh, then you better not take him.  He hates dogs, and has been known to attack them."
    My husband smiled.  "We can handle it."
    They weren't kidding.  Poor, sweet Alice couldn't understand why we'd brought home such a vicious beast.  For the first two weeks, Tim had them sleep in separate kennels, doors butted up against each other.  Alice cowered in a tiny pile in the back of hers, and the cat stuck his paw through the bars and hissed whenever anyone was watching.  Gradually, they began to tolerate each other.  We knew Alice would be the weaker specimen - she's just too nice - and Sailor Jerry quickly figured out that she wasn't even the tiniest threat.
    It's been two years now.  Sailor Jerry has a solid place in the household.  He's a great mouser, just like we needed.  He teases Alice and even plays with her when he thinks no one is looking.  And he has learned how to purr.  He snuggles and purrs for hours on end if we let him.
    We took the fierce Sailor Jerry and taught him what it means to be loved.  He loves us right back.
          

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