My friend Jim Parker had two pets — a dog named Fritz, an extraordinary terrier of unknown and mixed parentage, and an irregularly marked male feline named Pete. Fritz was acquired as a pup when Jim was 3. Untrained and undisciplined, Fritz had one major failing — he believed the entire world was his turf, and because of this, he never met a dog he didn’t hate.
Only 15 inches and weighing about 25 pounds, he challenged my German shepherd, plus Dobermans, Pit Bulls, and even our neighbors’ St. Bernard. Needless to say, Fritz never had a winning season, and he knew the veterinarian very well.
Over the years, Fritz lost half of one ear, received a deep gash on his left side and part of his tail when he tangled with a Bulldog. By the end of his fighting days, he could have earned medals for his wounds.
But Fritz was smart, perhaps cagey would be a better word, and amusing in many ways. He loved to follow family members around Oak Park, if he could get away with it.
If Jim’s mother planned a shopping trip and tried to dodge Fritz, the second he saw her wearing her “shopping dress,” he would refuse to move. Mrs. Parker would then put on a plain house dress over the other dress, a deception that worked for the most part.
One time Fritz followed Jim’s older sister to church, trotting up and down the central aisle until he found her and jumped onto her lap. This was amusing to the congregation but not to Jim’s sister. She carried him out of the church where he waited until she came outside when the service ended.
Miraculously, given his apparent death wish, Fritz lived for 18 years, dying while Jim was in college. The family postponed telling Jim until he came home one month later for summer vacation.
The other long-term resident of Jim’s home — taking up residence shortly after Fritz arrived — was Pete the cat who also was blessed with a very long life.
Pete was an unusually intelligent creature. He could hook a paw under the screen door, edge it open, and glide into the house. If Jim’s mother left the window unlatched in her bedroom during the summer, Pete could perform the same act and slip quietly into the house in the early morning after a night on the town.
Pete also liked to follow Jim’s family members through the village accompanied by Fritz. At nap time usually in the late afternoon, Pete often shared a sleeping box with his pal Fritz. They always arose without fail, though, when it was time to eat.
Waiting until Fritz was settled in the box, Pete would put one paw in the box, then another in that graceful slow motion ballet cats are so skilled at and gradually ease himself into the box and snuggle up to Fritz.
Pete also lived to the age of 18 — buddies to the end.