This summer, for reasons that still escapes me, we got a cat. Her name is Zoe. She’s a nice cat as far as cats go I guess, and the boys like her, so all is well. After a mere coupla weeks, she was sharing sunbeams and comfy chairs with my dog Lucy, so they’re pals too. All is well. Well enough anyway. The thing is, the dog doesn’t speak Cat and the cat doesn’t speak Dog. The cat doesn’t speak Human either, but anyone who’s the least bit surprised on that one should raise your hand. OK, now everyone with your hand raised, you’re stupid. This is a cat. That’s the way they are. But you’d think she’d make an effort to speak Dog.
Say Zoe wants to play. Being a cat, she does cat things to try to get Lucy all riled up and playing. She sneaks up on Lucy and jumps on her. Or she’ll run across the kitchen floor and rear up and slides waving her front paws in an enticing manner. In Cat this is pretty unmistakable for “Let’s play!”. In Dog, having something drop off the bookcase and nearly crush your little head just means “Whoops! Looks like someone slipped. Hope you’re not hurt!” It just doesn’t translate.
Now say Lucy wants to play. Being a dog, she does dog things to try to get Zoe all riled up and playing. She runs around the room in little circles barking at Zoe and then slams her front legs to the ground with her butt in the air and her little stub of a tail just a-waggin’. In Dog this is pretty unmistakable for “Let’s play!”. In Cat it means somebody needs their medications checked. Again, much lacking in the Translation Department.
But for the most part, they get on well enough. At least once Zoe learned that Lucy Does NOT Share Food. That was a pretty quick lesson really. I mean Zoe’s a cat, but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn- it just means she doesn’t want to.
Our other dog, Nicki doesn’t really care one way or the other. As long as no one wakes her up, she’s just peachy.
So what I’m saying is: In the spirit of Thanksgiving, thanks for being my pals. My MMP Clique, the occasional dropper-inner (Spell Check didn’t like that for some reason) and even the lurkers. Although really, not so much a “thanks” to the lurkers. Yeah, you’re nice enough and all, but we don’t know your actually there seeing how you’re lurking and that’s like being invisible. So it’s all your own fault we don’t know you’re there. What? I haven’t lowered the bar enough and you still feel all intimidated? OK fine! “I like toast.” How’s that? But the people I do know about, thanks for being my pals. Yer the best!
Yer pal,
-Rue.
Thanksgiving dinner preparations are underway at the swampcave. I have a turkey. I made a bunch of cornbread for the dressing yesterday. I drug ACBG to the store with me (well, not necessarily drug, he went voluntarily) yesterday to scope out collard greens. The bottom shelf of my beerator is now full of collard greens. They take up a lot of room for something that cooks waaaaaay down once you put em in the pot. I also bought sweet potatoes. Everything else I need I already got. All the other thanksgiving type foods are arriving via other friends. ACBG is making a cheesecake. He makes good cheesecakes.