My dog identified as a cat.

I am not a dog person, heck I'm not even an animal person, but I come from an animal family. Two technically. My dad has had three dogs over the course of my life, my mom has had two dogs and three cats. When I finally moved out to live on my own, I got a fish. Fish are so much easier. I had a fair fish growing up that I kept alive for three years completely on my own! So now, my husband and I have a semi large fish tank and keep a few fish. That's as close to having an animal in our house as we will get for a long time. I'm comfortable with my fish. But when I was younger, we adopted an incredibly unique dog named Happy.

One of my earliest memories involves our old Golden Retriever, Tigger. My dad got her shortly after I was born and he had separated from my mom. I loved Tigger and still have an old baseball she used to play with somewhere in my dad's garage. We didn't have her for very long, but I remember that she used to always chew on my dad's computer wires and drive him crazy. Soon, my dad met my stepmom and we moved from our little tiny house to her second floor two bedroom apartment. Tigger, as with many Golden Retrievers, struggled with her hips on the stairs, so we had to find her a new home. At four years old, I was really upset and confused. So much change happening at once and I couldn't even keep my dog. From then on, I stopped being a dog person.

A few years and five houses later, my mom bought her first home. One of the things she always told my sister and I was that whenever she could buy a house, we would be getting animals. So my mom bought a house and once she had saved up enough money, we went to the animal shelter. I still wasn't a dog person. I had decided I didn't like when they licked me, I didn't like how they shed everywhere, I didn't like how they slobbered, and I didn't like how I had to pick up their poop. No, I wanted a cat. So I headed straight to the cat section. I looked at all the cats and thought about how cute they all were. The cats were climbing on their towers, knocking each other over, and purring so loud. They looked so soft and snuggly. I definitely wanted a cat.

But then we saw Happy.

Happy was a 7 year old black lab. She had some white whiskers around her face and she was so calm, even when little kids were running around trying to pet all the dogs in the shelter. She just curled herself up into a little ball and laid down near the front of the cage so the people could pet her if they wanted. She had these deep brown eyes and a large birthmark at the top of her head right between her eyes that made her look unique.

The shelter workers told my mom that Happy's previous owner passed away. He was an elderly man with a lot of cats, so Happy had grown up in a house full of cats, and therefore, often acted like a cat. My mom said she was perfect for me. The perfect compromise since my mom and sister both wanted a dog but I wanted a cat.

So Happy came home with us.

We introduced her to our house, and she immediately climbed on the couch. Not the part where we sit, but the back of the couch where a cat would sit. She made her giant dog body so small that she could stay up there and just relax. That was her favorite spot in the house, but our couch had a narrow back and sometimes she would lose her balance and fall onto the cushions. Eventually we traded in the couches to get ones with larger back cushions so she could fit more comfortably.

Happy didn't bark like other dogs. If something seemed suspicious to her, she would just stick her head out the curtains and watch closely. Happy didn't want to play all the time, but when she did, she preferred small toys like a tennis ball that she could toss around rather than chew and tug on. Happy didn't eat any of our shoes or furniture which made my mom happy. Happy was definitely a cat trapped in a dog's body.

Eventually, Happy became my dog. Don't ask me how, she just did. She would sleep in a ball at the foot of my bed and would always follow me around the house when I was home. I didn't live there all the time, because I spent a few nights a week at my dad's house, but even when I wasn't home, my mom said that Happy would sleep on my bed. I think she didn't like when I left because it reminded her of how her previous owner left. But I always came back.

A few years passed and I got into a big argument with my mom. Probably the worst argument to this day I've ever been in. And I moved out. I was only 13 years old, but I called my dad, packed my things, and I left. My mom told me that Happy was my dog and she'd have to come with me.

We hadn't had a dog at my dad's house since Tigger because my stepmom was allergic, and now we had a 3 year old and an infant at his house. I know Happy would've been completely fine around the baby, but my dad and stepmom didn't know Happy so well and they were trying to be protective of my little sister. So Happy couldn't stay with me at my dad's house either. We kept her there for a few days, until my grandma could make the trip up and take Happy back to live with her.

Happy was used to living with older people from her previous owner. She liked that there weren't rambunctious little children there all the time, but I could still visit her every now and then when we went to my grandma's house. My grandma loves birds and has about five different bird feeders in her front yard. Bird feeders often attract squirrels and would drive grandma crazy because the squirrels scare away the birds. That became Happy's new job and she loved it. She'd go out with grandma each morning to feed the birds and scare away all the squirrels. She didn't even have to bark at them, just one look at the big black lab and the squirrels would run away.

Family gatherings at my grandma's house were so fun because my aunts, uncles, and cousins loved that grandma had a dog to play with now. You could tell that Happy enjoyed the attention, but was exhausted by the end of the day and happy that all the children went home. She definitely felt loved and cared for.

One morning when Happy was about 14 years old, she didn't wake up.

Happy lived a beautiful life. She got to see so much and meet so many people. She got to live her nine lives, like any other cat, and enjoyed each one of them. Happy was so unique and will always be missed.