Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/1152518
I s that a bobcat or a tree stump?" I asked my husband as he pointed to a dark figure in our side yard. "It's a cat," he replied, as I shook my head no. I was quick to argue that in almost 25 years, I had never seen a cat in my yard, and that it surely had to be a giant squirrel. The long-tailed animal ran off and I forgot about it. The next day, I heard a crash in the living room that brought down a large dog gate on top of our 17-year-old sleeping pug, Chica. How? I wondered. There's no wind. I then remembered that I'd left a dog treat on the rim of the gate, and it was now gone. Whatever was in the yard had come through an open door and stolen it. The culprit looked up at me from a bush: almost three feet, nose to tail, of tabby cat glory. A long, skinny kitty with one dangling fang and a deformed ear that looked like origami-gone-wrong. She stared back at me lovingly—an interloper who then walked into our home of two humans and five dogs. She exhibited a brave, serene presence. "Well, welcome," I said to a member of the species to which I am so aller- gic I had to carry an inhaler for years. "I'll call you Gigi." We fed the feline some of the chicken we keep on hand for the dogs, and she ate with abandon. After her first meal, she was hooked, slinking out of what we discovered had been her Kitty Airbnb by our hot tub and into the canine Airbnb we suckers ran indoors. Gigi adopted a dog bed, then a few of them. She commandeered the couch, then the coun- ters, and followed us like a shadow to scratch and snuggle her. Perplexed, the dogs tried to shoo her out with some teeth bar- ing and quick lunges, but Gigi's swift paw swipes put them in immediate retreat. She became the de facto leader of the pack. Her comfort level and affection was so incredible and so darned odd, I found myself repeatedly holding her whiskered face and asking her, "Why are you here?" We took a short trip to Maui and a few days after arriving, we got a call we'd dreaded. Chica, our eighth world wonder of a pug, had been stricken by something fatal. Our vet's exact words were, "Chica's trying to die." Hysterical, I bought tickets for the next flight home which was just two hours later, but the sweet old pug passed away as we left for the airport. The weight of Chica's departure felt crippling, and we dreaded getting home to a house with four dogs, instead of five. Four dogs would surely feel so…so empty. Chica had recently decided that mobility was no longer her thing, so we carried her everywhere; to her water bowl, her grass patch, and her dog bed. She had very little hearing, and even less sight, but she still lived with abandon, smelling us from 30 feet away and greeting us with hopping-barks and a huge smile whenever we walked through the door. She was like a child to us, an irreplaceable prized possession. I was already mopping tears off my face when we pulled into the driveway knowing I would never again hear her boisterous welcome. But what happened next brought me a sense of peace: No barking, no screeching, no noise at all—just five little heads popping up from couch cushions one at a time, dog, dog, dog, cat, dog. A new family, forged by nature, nurture and necessity. A new family member somehow sent to us to soften the blow. Several online websites reunite lost pets with their owners and I scoured every one of them looking for Gigi's other family. I found nothing. I created an account on a neighborhood app to see who'd lost their tabby. No matches. Finally, I took Gigi to the vet to check for an ID chip. There was none. I again became a sniveling idiot on the drive home laughing, crying and repeating, "Gigi, you're ours! Ours! Forever! We are your official family!" Gigi is amazing. She enjoys riding in the car, and allows me to rid her excess fur with a hand-vacuum. I caught her on a counter eating my salad when there was a bowl of chicken nearby. She lays on the dogs, not giving a darn which dog it is, and sleeps on our chests at night. We're a bit more tired, but we thank Chica every day for sending Gigi to us. Dina Eastwood is a former news anchor at KSBW TV, past host of "Candid Camera" and has starred on a reality show on the E! Network. She is a writer, editor and yogini. She resides on the Monterey Peninsula with her daughter, Morgan. BEHIND THE SPOTLIGHT D I N A E A S T W O O D Several online websites reunite lost pets with their owners and I scoured every one of them looking for Gigi's other family. And Then Came Gigi 50 C A R M E L M A G A Z I N E • S U M M E R / F A L L 2 0 1 9 "