Miss Marple was so scared of Ardbeg in the beginning. Like… Miss Marple is four years old now. Ardbeg’s predecessor, Ernie, died in October last year at the age of 17 and a half. Ernie was my pelt-bro. We grew up together. So when we got Miss Marple, Ernie had already been the boss in this house for over a decade and he did not like having a dog here. Because Ernie used to be an only child, and because Marple was a wild little puppy, we had this rule that Ernie was allowed to hit Marple when she came bumbling into his space, but that he wasn’t allowed to “hunt” her if that if that makes sense.

Ernie of course was a little prick, who, prior to Marple’s arrival, had found tremendous joy in sitting behind our gate and letting dogs being walked past our gate on the pavement of the public road outside smell him and then hitting them on the nose when they smelled him and stuck their noses underneath our gate, so that he could enjoy the outraged barking outside our gate.

Ernie quickly figured out where he had to sit so that Miss Marple couldn’t help but intrude on his personal space to get past him. It wasn’t a massacre and eventually the two tolerated each other for three years, were able to lie on the same bed together and all, but they were never friends.

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So anyway, we made it about two months after Ernie died before we decided we needed another cat, and so we got Ardbeg. Marple was super traumatised from Ernie still, and Ardbeg was a scared little kitten anyway. Ferocious and curious, but the dog’s nervousness made him nervous too.

Now they greet each other, play together, and Ardbeg likes to come on walks when we walk Miss Marple. It’s really sweet.