When Susie (the Jack Russell Terrier cat detection dog) finds Cheeto, her reward is that she gets to play with the kitty and Cheeto just loves to give Susie love bites.
Cheeto is a target cat with a job. He works for Missing Pet Partnership and is used to train the cat detection dogs who are being trained to find lost cats. Once a week Cheeto is placed in a cat carrier, stashed way in heavy brush, and a series of search dogs are brought in to search for him. At first this might sound cruel, until you meet Cheeto and understand that Cheeto loves dogs and revels in being licked and nudged by his buddies! Once he is "found," this gregarious cat insists on coming out of his carrier to greet each dog by rubbing up against them or strutting around the parking lot to bat at moths or investigate intriguing smells (while on his leash and in harness of course)
Here is how Kat Albrecht describes Cheeto (Partial excerpt from The Lost Pet Chronicles):
I didnít intentionally go out and get another cat because I thought I needed to or even could replace Yogi. I just couldnít picture myself living life without an orange kitty. Enter Cheeto. Once again, I found myself at the local SPCA, adopting an active, cheddar cheese-colored kitten that tugged at my heartstrings. As he grew older, Cheeto grew obnoxious. He would stalk and pounce on poor Myron, insist on squeezing into the "no cats allowed" dog areas because he would only drink slobbery dog water (saving the cat water bowl for tipping over), scale and destroy a pair of cloth curtains, and damage two sets of mini blinds. And that was just a typical morning living with Cheeto! He even crawled into my closet one day and, while sharpening his talons, put tiny snags in the front of my unused wedding dress!
In spite of his exasperating behavior, Cheeto had more character than any feline I had ever seen. I even trained my orange monster to sit on his haunches and wave "bye-bye" for a dab of liverwurst. And best of all, while most people took their well-behaved dogs with them when shopping at PETsMART stores, I took my cat.
Cheeto rode in style, in the small segment of the shopping cart usually reserved for children and purses. Using a soft fleece pad to cover the unforgiving cold, hard wire, I would plop my eccentric feline onto his cushy throne and begin to roll him around the store. Cheeto would crouch at first, but invariably by the time I made it to the dog food isle, he would spy a dog nearby and want to make friends. At the opening facing my tummy, the spot where a childís leg would normally dangle out the cart, my orange passenger would pop his head out and meow, inviting the curious dogs to come play.
Cheeto's favorite part of his PETsMART visits was a five-minute viewing of the tiny, jumpy finches that made distinctive, dainty "beep-beep-beep" sounds. I could tell my cat liked the birdies because he wagged his tail and licked his lips, just like Rachel used to do when watching the squirrels and blue jays.