It was never actually planned that so many paws would one day be running around this house.

Some of our animals we chose very deliberately. Some came to us more or less by chance. And with others, it all started with a simple: “We can't just leave them there.”

Not everyone who belongs to our animal family is still with us today. But each of them has their very own story – and some even made sure that the next animal housemate moved in with us in the first place.

So let's start right at the beginning.

Matilda – the little one who got a chance

Matilda was our first cat. A tiny farm kitten, about four weeks old, the smallest and weakest of her litter – and so small that she fitted in my hand.

A severe infection had damaged one of her eyes so badly that for a long time it was unclear whether it could be saved. Eventually we found a vet who dared to try a treatment that was unusual at the time. His guarantee: none. Our reasoning: You can always remove an eye later. But once it's gone, you can't get it back.

The attempt succeeded. Matilda regained full sight and grew into a cuddly, self-confident outdoor cat. And she had an astonishing talent for teaching other animals who belonged to the family – she even treated our chipmunk Spidey not as prey, but as a friend.

Moritz – almost like a twin brother

When we spotted Moritz on an animal welfare notice in 2010, we had to look twice. He looked so much like Matilda that later you could tell the two apart almost only by small colour markings on their tails.

Fortunately, the resemblance wasn't limited to looks: Matilda immediately accepted the six-month-old little rascal. The two became inseparable, cuddled together and could hardly be kept apart.

After Matilda's far too early death in an accident, Moritz grieved deeply. He became even more attached, came along on our walks and hardly left our side. A few years later, however, a small cat called Mia was to end his status as sole ruler. Moritz was not at all impressed. He spent more and more time with neighbours who fed him and had even set up his own spot at the window for him. Moritz had practically chosen a second home for himself – and when those neighbours later moved away, they took him with them.

Mia – small but mighty

In 2014 I was scrolling through an animal welfare website, and Tim, just two years old at the time, spotted the picture of a small cat from Bulgaria.

His comment was pretty clear:

“My Mia.”

And that apparently settled the matter.

Mia is about a year older than Tim and has been with us ever since. She has stayed astonishingly small, but probably considers herself at least twice as big. She is cuddly, headstrong, very attached to me and at times even accompanied me on walks without a lead.

Today she is our little old lady. A chronic jaw inflammation and arthritis have been with her for a while, but with the right treatment she tries not to let them bother her too much.

At night, by the way, she likes to lie right next to my face. How such a small cat can claim so much space in the bed is one of the great unsolved mysteries of our household.

Salmi – my soul dog

ven in 2021, Boris and I didn't really want a dog yet.

Someday, yes. But not yet.

Then a childhood friend sent me a photo of a little black Aussiedoodle puppy – and our “someday” quite quickly became “now”.

When Salmi arrived at night and we saw each other for the first time, there was something I still find hard to explain. We looked at each other and somehow it was clear: We belong together.

He got his name from his coat, which was jet black and shimmering back then and immediately reminded me of salmiak liquorice.

Of course Salmi also loves Boris and Tim. But he is and will always be a mummy's dog. My shadow, my companion – and probably truly my soul dog.

Olli & Kira – who weren't actually supposed to stay

In 2024, Boris came home one day and said:

“Darling, I found two kittens.”

My first question was: “Where are they?”

“Still at the construction site. In a waste container for insulation material.”

Let's put it this way: my reaction was clear.

When we then also found out that the container was going to be emptied the next day, we drove the roughly 80 kilometres back, cleared out half a container and pulled out two kittens, about six to eight weeks old, covered in fleas and worms.

My plan was clear: nurse them back to health and then find them a new home.

At the vet's, Boris was already no longer quite so sure.

And then Salmi met the two of them.

He lay down on the floor, the little ones climbed all over him – and that was basically the end of my rehoming strategy.

When Olli later got a fever after a vaccination and was looking for shelter, shivering, he simply crawled into the hollow of Salmi's belly. Salmi lay completely still and let him sleep.

Today, Olli and Kira still seek out the closeness of our dogs when they need comfort or warmth.

So “We can't just leave them there” pretty quickly turned into: They're part of us now.

Layla – the whirlwind

ndoubtedly, our household was finally complete after that.

Really.

I definitely didn't want a second dog, anyway.

Until my friend got in touch: the planned home for a little female dog had fallen through at short notice.

After some back and forth, Boris and I finally decided to take Layla in. Tim and I picked her up together – with Salmi, of course, because it was important to me that the two could get to know each other right from the start.

Layla made it clear pretty quickly that she is not simply a mini Salmi .

While Salmi seems to have learned many things in the blink of an eye, Layla has a mind of her own. On top of that, she has a strong hunting instinct, which means that letting her off the lead requires a lot more attention.

She is a whirlwind, sometimes a challenge and at the same time an indispensable part of our family.

And every morning she joins us on our walks together with Salmi – these days usually very well secured.

And lately there's buzzing, too …

You might think that with dogs and cats our animal household would be complete by now.

Boris apparently sees it differently. For some time now, he has developed a passion for bees .

For him, it's not about harvesting as much honey as possible. Much more important to him is the idea of offering the bees a good habitat and, at the same time, giving a little something back to nature.

His goal is to leave the colonies as much of their own honey as possible – ideally so much that they can live well on it and need as little extra feeding as possible. Only what goes beyond that may perhaps one day be enjoyed by us.

Boris also tries to be as gentle as possible when handling the bees. He is working on causing as little disturbance as possible to the colony when opening the hives and, in the long term, on getting by with as few aids as possible.

Whether his bees find his ideas as convincing as he does remains to be seen.

But one thing is certain by now:

Our animal flatshare now also has residents with wings. 🐝

And today?

When I look at our animal family today, one thing stands out above all:

Our long-term animal planning apparently doesn't work particularly well.

Some were planned. Some not at all. Some were only supposed to stay temporarily – and others joined us even though we were absolutely sure that there really were enough animals in the house now.

And somehow, in the end, every animal had its very own idea of how things should turn out.

Today, Mia, Salmi, Olli, Kira and Layla are part of our everyday life. On top of that, there are now Boris’ bees, which don't live with us in the house, but have expanded our animal family by a few thousand little housemates.

And of course Matilda and Moritz are also part of this story. They are no longer with us, but without them our animal flatshare would probably never have had the story it has today.

If there's one thing I've learned over the past years, perhaps it's this:

A home doesn't necessarily become fuller by how many live in it – but by how much life it holds.

And with that, our animal family is now really complete.

Definitely.

Well … probably. 😉