Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d have a cat. I’m talking ever. But somehow, Slate Dixon had a very different plan—and I’ve gotta say, she executed it flawlessly.
From the very first day we met her, she decided we were hers. Not the other way around. This girl didn’t tiptoe around like a typical new kitten. Nope. She was social, curious, and bold as ever. And even though she was meeting Ash—our big white husky—for the first time, by hour four, she was belly up, completely relaxed, like she’d been with us for years. I think it was her way of saying: Yeah, I’m home now. Thanks.
And honestly, that’s what makes me happiest. Every Muchkin Dev and I have ever had—Ash, our late ferret Sasha, and now Slate—they’ve all known, deeply and immediately, that they’re safe with us. That safety, that comfort, that sense of belonging… you can’t fake that. And we don’t take it for granted for even a second.
Slate slid into our little family like a pro. A furry, vocal, mildly dramatic pro. She’s already picked up a few “dog” traits (probably because Ash is such a great teacher). She follows us from room to room, always looking like she’s mid-math problem, calculating how to get from point A to point B using parkour, a bookshelf, and probably a plant she’s not supposed to touch. She hasn’t made it to the countertops yet, but we absolutely fear the day she learns. That day will be filled with repeated “no”s and gentle swats, and we already know she’s going to test every boundary with those big innocent eyes like, “But what if I just do it one more time?”
And speaking of energy… the girl has pipes. When Slate wants her food? There’s no subtlety involved. It’s a full-on scream-meow. And we can’t even pretend not to respond, because it’s piercing just enough to get us moving. Ash, of course, uses this moment to look like the innocent older sibling, sitting calmly while lowkey knowing: Yes, my little cat-sister is screaming again, but that means snacks are coming for both of us. So really… win-win.
What’s been the cutest to witness, though, is their dynamic. We feed our Muchkins raw—yes, like real meal-prepped, handmade food—and every time Slate gets her portion, she knows exactly what to do. She eats her chicken first, then leaves the bone for Ash. And he? He patiently waits until she’s done. No fighting. No stress. Just a little system they’ve worked out on their own.
It’s like they’ve known each other in a past life. (Which wouldn’t surprise me, honestly.)
If you’ve followed me for a while, you know our family is vibrant, loving, loud, and a little bit wild. Slate fits right in. She’s vocal. She’s affectionate. She’s curious (like textbook curious). And she’s already expanded my heart in that sneaky way only pets can.
So here’s to the new chapter—and to Slate, the cat I never thought I’d have, who made herself impossible not to love.
Welcome home, baby girl. 💛
