By Tia Ayers, with Barbara Ayers

I am the Other Cat- the Other Woman. I am Tia the Calico!

So there I was, living at Cat House, surrounded by 24 other cats of every size and style. Waiting to be rescued. Waiting for my own home.

Elvis stopped by. In 13 seconds, my life forever changed. I was picked up - by the basset alpha of Surf Dog Diaries. In no time, I was in the car in a box, on my way to my new home with my new surf dog family. (Surf dog family?!)

It was obvious right away that Elvis didn’t care what breed or color you were. He loved all animals, all people, all plants and sky and grass and sunsety cliffs.

He even loved water. Even though basset hounds hate water. Even though he started out life, afraid of water.

He liked cats. This cat - me.

He missed his first kitty, Kihei. I’m OK with being his second kitty. The Queen, the calico - Tia.

In the car with Elvis was another dude, Little Dude. They were twin bassets - sort of. But Elvis was big and wide and low to the ground.

His brother was smaller and needier. He was also missing both eyes. Seriously. Dude was blind and Elvis was Little Dude’s seeing eye dog.

They were all-boy, double-dog and clearly they lacked the feminine side, the cat’s eye view. That’s where I came in.

All three of us wore the same colors – brown and black and white. Almost immediately upon shacking up together, we became the new three-dog-night – the new Mod Squad.

Two badass bassets and a calico. Triplets. Family.

Elvis didn’t care whether Little Dude had eyes or not.

He wasn’t selective. Or maybe he was – after all, he hand selected me. Or was it the other way around? He was my very best friend. And always will be.

I am now Queen of surf dogs. Overseeing all, from our Sky Blue farmhouse tucked against the cliffs in the Columbia River Gorge.

Sky Blue is an old soul wooden home that has sheltered people and pets for more than a century. Sky Blue has a cat’s eye view over steep Gorge cliffs - as far as the eye can see, the ribbon of life, changing each day - sunrises,  sunsets, angry storms, snow storms, and spectacular summer surfing on the Columbia River.

I have two bassets and a doxie here inside blue house with me. And a pushy hummingbird and a flighty flock of wild quail out in the yard. I can’t figure out why I bounce off the clear sky and land back on the floor when I dive bomb for those pesky buggers.

I have a person to sleep with. She has a name - we call her Her. Or She. Which She didn’t know, since She’s a person.

Even though people and animals love each other, we certainly don’t talk.

That first night, She and I slept in a tiny bathroom inside Sky Blue.

A bunch of my cat friends lived in bathrooms at Cat House, so I’ve seen it before.

I slept back behind the claw foot tub, where it was darker, and easier to hide.

Once I was feral and bold. But now I was a scaredy-cat, a house cat. That first night in the old farmhouse was terrifying, without the other 24 kitties hanging around.

She slept on the hard wood floor next to the tub and kept turning and tossing all night.

This was all new. New never meant anything good, when you come from the wild. New was when a coyote ate my mom when I was a kitten. The other kittens just disappeared. I was all alone.

That’s what happens here in the country. Wild animals don’t live in cages, we do! Inside the house so we don’t get eaten!

Did I mention that we live in the Columbia Gorge National Scenic Area? Where eagles fly overhead and plunge down and splash for salmon in streams behind our house? Eagles and owls and cougars and bears and coyotes and bobcats roam around our cliffs. I heard somewhere that wolves and condors are starting to live here again, too.

Wolves? Gulp.

Point is, it’s a big, scary world out there.

So there I was, behind the claw foot tub on my first night in my own home. That moment I was waiting for. And afraid of, at the same time.

Elvis was whining outside the bathroom door.

We were in here trying to sleep on the floor and he was out there, scratching on the door, trying to get in.

I’d only been here a few hours, and already he missed me. That helped.

I heard later that Elvis was adopted by the world’s first surfing basset hound - Howdy. Elvis learned to surf in California - of course. He was the world’s second surfing basset hound. There can't have been many surfing bassets back in the 90’s. Or today, maybe.

After the first Surf Dog Diaries basset hound went to heaven, Elvis was new #1. But he was lonely. So he adopted a smaller basset mix, Little Dude, from Best Friends Animal Society. They met in a parking lot.

And Dude became surfing basset #3.

Later, Dude went blind. He lost one eye, then the other. But that didn’t slow him. He was a natural surfer.

Now, all these dog years later, the only dog left in Sky Blue with me and Her is the pain-in-the-butt doxie Elvis adopted when he got old - whose name is Doodle.

Doodle thinks he’s #1 or something, but he’s just a weiner.

We were never close before (Elvis was always my guy,) but since the basset brothers went off to the other side, the wiener dog has grown on me.

Doodle ‘n I are almost exactly the same size. Not twins, though we both weigh 16 pounds. But he’s just brown.

All of this really happened. This is a true story.

The part about Elvis picking me up at Cat House and taking me home.

And two surfing bassets and a doxie and a person, riding together in the windsurfing Capital of the World.

And Dude going blind.

And the coyotes and quail and eagle and salmon.

And being a wild kitty in my first life.

And living with 25 cats in my second.

And in my third, living with surf dogs.

Not many cats write memoirs.

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

- Tia