The cat landed near my head with a soft pat, then gave my cheek a lick to wake me up.  I shook my head and looked perturbed.  The cat didn't care.  

"Get up, I need to show you something."  

I uncurled and stepped out of my gloriously soft bed, then padded down the hall into my master's room.  He was asleep, soft snoring cuing me in.  I looked at the cat inquisitively.  

"What's going on cat?"  The cat and I were on good terms, but each of us kept to ourselves, it was rare that it came to me, rarer still that we occupied the same space.  

"Our caretaker is dying."  The cat looked at me, a soft, almost gentle expression on its face.  I stumbled. That was impossible. From the first moments of my life, until the death of my mother I had known this man.  My entire family had known him. My ancestors had known him.  He was immortal, unbending, unbowed.  Unlike myself, who even as a younger dog grew grayer every year.  He couldn't die! I shook my head and spoke sternly with the cat.  

"Our master cannot die.  He is eternal."  I looked at the cat and although it could have mocked me, it only looked sad. I took a step back.  I had never seen the cat look like this. It scared me.  I backed out of master's room and ran down the hall.  I heard soft footfalls behind me.  "Get away!" I barked.  The cat came closer. 

"Biscuit." It said, using my human name. "Listen to me.  I have lived seven on my nearly nine lives with this human.  I watched him get the first of your kind when he was but a child.  I have seen each of your elders come home to him, cast in what seemed to be an endless cycle.  But as your kind aged and bred and were gifted to the man, so I aged and died and was reborn.  At first I too thought the man was unable to age, gifted by the universe a body that never withered or suffered, but I began to remember my lives.  He was a small human once.  Like a puppy or a kitten." 

I barked a laugh.  Our master as small as a kitten? What a ridiculous image.  The cat did not seem amused, and instead continued its outlandish tale. 

"After his small body began to grow, so did I, and your great great great great grandmother.  Eventually the years began to blur and the man seemed to stop growing, but through the years I remember his hair was once dark, and his skin was smooth.  He walked on two legs rather than three and his voice never cracked."  The cat tilted it's head at me.  "You don't understand do you?" 

I shook my head, of course I didn't.  The cat was speaking nonsense.  Finally it spoke again, this time a bit slower, like master did when I had done something wrong.  I wagged my tail in agitation but decided to listen. 

"You just promise me that no matter what happens, you will always be good to the human.  Guide him, protect him, warm him when he's cold."  I nodded, the serious tone from the cat scaring me again. "Good, after all, your kind were made as perfect companions for humans."  The cat finally flicked it's tail and stood up, stretching to the sky as it arched its back. 

After the cat left I thought about what it had said.  No matter how i turned the matter in my head I still couldn't believe that my master was going to die. It wasn't possible.  Humans are immortal. I folded my paws over my nose and went back to sleep. 

Mornings always began the same, a cacophony of sights and sounds both outside and in. Mother had once told him that even if everything else changed, mornings were always the same. As far as Diggy could tell, she was right. Each generation before him had stories of this very farmhouse. They talked about chasing the chicken poults that grew into feisty hens and roosters, waxed poetic about the weird smells coming from the cow shed, and a few of them spoke of the odd friendships that they had formed while maintaining their status of "world's best farm dog."

Diggy stretched his long legs, nails scraping on the wood floor next to his bed. His master too was stretching, scratching the back of his head like the cat who was on the edge of the bed. Bits of fur were flying, catching the thin stream of sunlight that lit up the dust and fur like spun gold as it swirled in the eddies and currents of air. He barked and the cat flinched, staring wide eyed at him as if to ask "now why did we do that?"

Owner stood, patting first Diggy's head and then switching hands to stroke the cat's silken fur. "It's alright Mig, he's just saying hello." Owner said, smiling wanly as Miggy pushed her head into owners hand and rubbed her cheek against his thumb. As owner made their way out the door and down the hall, Diggy began to follow only to be stopped by the siamese at the foot of the bed who looked alarmed. 

"Something's not right Diggy." She said, her attention still fixed to the door where owner had disappeared, heading towards the kitchen."

"I know, I don't smell coffee! Wonder what's going on, coffee is always on by this time!" Diggy jumped sideways, whining as he wanted to accompany owner down the hall as was his custom. Miggy's worried look, however, held him back. 

"Diggy, that's not what I meant. Something isn't right with owner. You should know, we've been with him since we were kittens."

"Puppies!" Diggy barked, quieting immediately at the reproachful look his best friend gave him.

"Diggy. Owner has known us since we were born and before us, our mothers and grandmothers. Seven generations of cat and dog have come and gone since owner was a child himself. He's protected us and cared for us, not a day has gone by that he has not given his all for us. But I can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Nothing feels right today."

Diggy shook his head, another desperate whine escaping as he nervously looked out the door again. He could hear noises from the kitchen and smell the coffee brewing at last. 

"You're overreacting Miggy, it's fine. He's fine."

He couldn't shake the feeling that Miggy was right but couldn't bring himself to think about it. Owner had always been there for him so he would be there for owner. He bounded down the hall and trotted into the kitchen, his nails clicking on the tile as owner padded about with his cup of coffee. Throughout the day, Diggy stayed by his side and soon he forgot Miggy's dire warning. All seemed fine as they read the paper together, answered emails, chased squirrels, and went for a walk to feed the geese. That part was his favorite because he could play with them and make them honk and scream and flap their wings. He knew better than to get near their beaks, however, as their bites were just as painful as his were though he wasn't quite as delicious to them as he was sure they were to him. After they fed the geese, owner walked slowly back to the house, stumbling a bit on the wooden steps that led to the kitchen. Inside, he was met by two men who smelled strange. They looked like postal workers but they smelled like rubber and soap. They had brought a new bed into the kitchen but yelled at Diggy when he sniffed it. He whined when owner said he was going to take a nap on the bed and that his daughter would be by in a bit to feed Diggy his supper. He had to trust that owner was right, but he didn't like that the men took owner in the bed and put him in a large crate. He barked and scratched at the door, running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room window as the crate was wheeled out of view and disappeared down the road. 

Hours later, the door opened and owners daughter entered. Diggy looked up, standing and stretching in anticipation even as she shook her head and patted his. 

"He's not coming back bud. I'll be taking care of you now." 

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