Master.
The cats don’t like me, but they bloody well know I’m the master.
We run a tight ship around here.
The One with the Opposable Thumb.
They’ve figured out that is an important trait for getting food out of the bags, opening doors and for driving cars. What can I say – my dogs love three things in the world – me, a ride in the car, and suppertime. Not necessarily in that order.
“You With The Thumbs!”
…As the cat sits by the door, or in the kitchen below the yummy soft food, or at the base of the bookshelf where we keep the catnip out of reach, or…
I have now sworn eternal vengeance upon Stinkum, she of the faster posting finger.
My parents’ two African Grey parrots both think my name is WHAAAT? in a snotty-teenager voice. This is because for most of the time I lived in the same house as them, they’d hear my mother yell my name, then see me emerge from my room saying WHAAAT? in a snotty-teenager voice. They’d yell my name if they wanted me for some reason (usually because I’d let them out of their cages if they did it, because it amused me), but when they saw me, or anyone mentioned my name, they’d say WHAAAT?!
I am pretty sure our rabbits refer to me as “Hey! Two Legs! Make with the CHOW!!!”
I believe we are knows as ‘late with dinner’ for we never seem to see the cats until they expect to be fed and then they eat and disappear again.
This ritual has been exacerbated by the arrival of the first human child and I figure the protesting will start with true furvor when the second human child arrives next month.
The dog sees us as ‘keeper of the kibble’ and ‘opener of the doors.’ Although when we go someplace without her I think she sees us as ‘mean parents’ although I would think she’d be happy to have a little time without someone following her around trying to put toys up her nose?!
I am Mommy to the dog. My husband is Daddy. My daughter is Sister and my son, Brother. If you say, “Go to Mommy (or Brother, Sister or Daddy)” to him, he’ll run to whoever you said. If you say “Cookie” he runs to his cookie jar. And, if you say, “Walkie” he runs to where his leash is hung. He’s very smart. Oh, and my mother is his “Grandma,” too. My father is the only one who won’t play. He says, “I am not the goddam dog’s Grandad!”
Lincoln, how about you? Oh, and good luck!
My Princess Puppy calls me “God”
Swansea. Good luck to you too!
After repeated exposure to the Chow breed, I’m nearly convinced that they are, in fact, extremely large cats and not the actual dogs everyone says they are. They certainly act like overstuffed felines.
MY not quite tame Bourke parakeet likely thinks of me as “corn and peas dispenser”!