food chain.
I must intercede for the feline. People are not cats. Cats are not people and having shared my life with nine and yours, I realize they are just smarter. Not as smart as the dogs, but none the less, their ranking puts us a little further down on the food chain.
I must intercede for the feline. People are not cats. Cats are not people and having shared my life with nine and yours, I realize they are just smarter. Not as smart as the dogs, but none the less, their ranking puts us a little further down on the food chain.
Take for example our obsession for celebrations. We have w a a a y too many and add to that the cultural diversity of the human being, the number of excuses to memorialize, pay tribute to, honor, etc. becomes a google digit.
Being a semi-retired pet sitter, I often wonder what the animals think. In this section, I offer
what I believe they must sense about us as a species.
Chapter 1 - A Dog's Thanksgiving
Chapter II - A Cat's Birthday party
Chapter III - The Family Dog's 1st Christmas
Chapter IV - Halloween and the Grumpy Cat
Chapter II - A Cat's Birthday party
Chapter III - The Family Dog's 1st Christmas
Chapter IV - Halloween and the Grumpy Cat
A Dog's Thanksgiving
Dogs celebrate Thanksgiving every single day. They are thankful for the sunrise because that means meal time is coming. They are thankful for mealtime because that leads to time outdoors. And who would not be thankful for time with nature? The excitement of activity, the anticipation of weather, and the movement of blades of grass or leaves falling to attract their attention give cause to celebrate. They are thankful for the occasional walk because the blend of free sniff samples tells them about their neighborhood. They are thankful to come inside again and feel permanence and a sense of belonging. They are thankful for interactions with other animal companions and family throughout their day. If they have been with themselves to wait until people come home, they are thankful for the reunion. They are thankful for a touch and a personal greeting that could not be mistaken for any human member. They are thankful for the freedom to follow in and out of every room in their home. They are thankful for sunset because that means that they will be settling into the evening routine with the promise of tomorrow's sunrise.
Thanksgiving Day will come again next year. The stress of the day will be upon us in another 364 days. We will practice our hospitality (teaching children table manners), grocery shop in duress ( and if it's last minute, have to apologize for the pull-apart rolls because there had been a run on crescents), clean house with a grumble (lay out the display towels), and exchange smiles and hugs with family and friends who will take up the majority of our day off.
Some of us will be truly thankful. Some of us need the excuse of the holiday to think outside of ourselves and celebrate. I would rather believe that I'm more like my dog. . .
Through the bars, standing on the cold concrete floor which had been his home for seven years,
the old dog watched as the afternoon's last visitor passed by. He wished he could remember when the last one stopped and talked to him. He couldn't. Of course, with all the barking in neighboring kennels and those lined up across from him, he might not have heard any conversation at all. Backing
up to feel the edge of the makeshift bed, he circled once to the right, sniffed and laid down.
"Here he is. Are you sure you wouldn't want a younger dog?" asked the volunteer. "Nope, I've been dreaming of this one", answered the crackling male voice. "Okay, he's been here a very long time, may not be social. I'm just making certain your decision is based on all the information we have on him." Smiling and bending down to scratch the head of the dog, the boy, took the rope from his pocket and made a loop. He gently placed the homemade leash over its head and gave it a tug.
"He thinks he's going for a walk. We always walk him before dinner. It's the only exercise he gets,"
said the familiar voice. "What's his name?" asked the boy, age twelve with hair that was almost the same color as the coat of the dog. "He doesn't have a legal name," she answered. "Good, I'm gonna call him Sunny, because his eyes are bright."
The two joined an excited group of children and two adults in the waiting room. With the approval of his mom and dad, the group escorted the new family member to the waiting pick up truck. Sunny jumped in the bed of the dusty black two door, followed by the twelve-year-old, one four-year-old
and her favorite dolly. Two younger children joined the adults in the front seat.
It was a bouncy trip up the county road which connected the humane society to town. Once they were back to paved roads, Sunny steadied himself between the two children and breathed in everything at once. His ear flaps made him look like he was flying!
"We're home", squealed the two in the front seat. Sunny stepped down on to unfamiliar
green softness. It was cool, but not the sterile cool of the kennel floors. Children ran circles around him which caused excited barking. "Well, well", said the dad. He DOES have a voice after all. Sounds like a baritone!"
"It's perfect, just like in my dream", said the official owner. "I'm gonna let him loose and see where he goes." Sunny sat down.
The sun was setting, the wind was up and the dog's new bed was being warmed by the fire.
"I can't get him to move!" cried the little sister. "He's gonna freeze stiff", she wailed.
"Maybe he's waiting for his leash," said Dad. "He's used to being tied to people. I will bring him in."
"Let's sing carols", suggested Mom. "After all, it's Christmas Eve and if you want Santa to find us,you're going to have to sing your loudest!"
Sunny joined in and the faces usually grimaced with having to remember the lyrics, burst into hysterical laughter. Sunny's baritone voice could be heard over the combined laughter. He was telling Santa where to find them and not to bring any presents for him because he already had the most wonderful gift of his life - a family of his very own.
A Cat's Birthday Party
"Oh boy, look at the new toys!" said the family cat as she stretched her four legs from underneath the warmth of a morning nap. The unraveled spool of grosgrain ribbon was enticingly close and not an immediate concern of the person in the room.
Extending her left front paw in that direction, her nail made contact with the ribbed fabric and as she was trawling it ever closer for a look-see, the person scolded, "Bad, kitty!" Retrieving the
ribbon from the edge of the table, she went back to measuring the wrapping paper.
"How rude", mused the feline and got up to get a better view of the person and her toys.
On the table was a mix of unwrapped boxes, gift bags (some with attached tags), rolls of
patterned paper and sheets of tissue paper to match the colored paper. There was a tape dispenser,
two pairs of scissors- one with a pinking edge, and an assortment of scented marking pens.
The bounty was almost too much for the curious kitty. Bounding upward in a silent arch, she landed smack in the middle of the action. "Bad, BAD Kitty," said the person and picked up the
furry detective to return her to the safety of the floor.
Miffed but determined, the cat took another approach. This one in stages: from floor to chair, from chair to windowsill. Now she had the table top in a full, unrestricted view. She was so excited,
she let out a MEOW and jumped back on the table, being ever so careful to land at one edge so as not to invite another scolding, That move didn't meet with disapproval, although the person narrowed her eyes to mere slits and pursed her lips.
Sitting still with the exception of an agitated tail, the cat formed a new strategy. Knowing that whatever was going on would stop eventually, she would wait it out. The person couldn't possibly take all the toys away at once and when the opportunity opened up, whatever was in reach was fair game.
A timer sounded and as the person left the table, heading to check on the cake in the oven, the cat snatched the shiny paper pompom and quickly took her prize to investigate it under the easy chair. She knew she would be undisturbed for a little while. Well, it was fun for a minute as the last toss
landed the object in the flower arrangement. Cats have wonderfully long memories and the last time a flower arrangement was disturbed, there was no catnip for a week.
The person returned to the table and continued whatever she was doing. In the meantime,
the aroma of sweetness and the possibility of forbidden treats was in the other room. Cat headed there and with her pink nose leading the way, found the stash. On the tiled kitchen table, lined up in rows and columns, were unfrosted cupcakes. The icing had been left on the counter, as room temperature was always advised before frosting.
No boxed mixes in this house; everything was homemade. Naturally, a coating of flour was on the countertop, where the batter had been mixed. "Oooh," purred kitty. "Let's make a design!" and with no interruption from the person, a line of paw prints started on the counter and with one bound,
continued all over the table, being careful not to disturb the pattern of unfrosted treats.
All of a sudden the cat, being thirsty and not wanting to go to the laundry room for water,
found the opened bottle of buttermilk. Its opening was too small for a paw, but maybe if
she stood really close, she could lick the contents. It worked! She was happily consuming
the droplets of sweat creamery butter from the top when the person returned to check on the cooling
cupcakes and pull the cake from the oven. "BAD, BAD Kitty," said the woman.
Jumping across the double sink and landing on top of the refrigerator, kitty just turned her back
and preened. From that high viewpoint, something new caught her attention. Brightly wrapped boxes were neatly arranged on that same table. Pretty bows with jingle bells and curly-q ribbons, open bags with layers of noisy tissue paper and piles of confetti beckoned her.
Being that the person was busy cleaning up the kitchen, Kitty returned to the dining room
where she had even more toys to entertain her. sitting up, she began to swat at the wrapping, removing some of the bows from the packages. The bows fell to the floor and were gathered together into a pile. Stepping back to admire her treasure trove, the cat heard "That's it, into the laundry room with you!"
Oh well, it was time for another nap anyway. Some minutes later, the doorbell rang and a parade of people filed through the front door. Everyone stood and admired the beautifully decorated
table and a pile of presents. A little boy asked, "And where is the birthday kitty?" "In time out", said the woman, "but you can go and get her."
Kitty was placed in her basket which had been moved to a chair at the dining table. Everyone was served dessert and took turns unwrapping the gifts to give to her. The bounty included - cat grass,
balls, and feathered twine batons. There were several packets of edible treats and assorted catnip
toys. New dishes and nail clipper rounded out the thoughtful gifts. Kitty was passed from one guest to another and hugged and stroked. The little boy said, "I just love coming to Granny's. She has the best parties ever!"
The birthday feline was one happy cat! While she sat in the middle of the torn bits and pieces of paper, ribbons, and handwritten cards, the parade of people filed back out the front door. The woman picked up her companion, gave her a kiss and wished her "many more." Kitty could hardly wait for next year!
The Family Dog's First Christmas
Through the bars, standing on the cold concrete floor which had been his home for seven years,
the old dog watched as the afternoon's last visitor passed by. He wished he could remember when the last one stopped and talked to him. He couldn't. Of course, with all the barking in neighboring kennels and those lined up across from him, he might not have heard any conversation at all. Backing
up to feel the edge of the makeshift bed, he circled once to the right, sniffed and laid down.
"Here he is. Are you sure you wouldn't want a younger dog?" asked the volunteer. "Nope, I've been dreaming of this one", answered the crackling male voice. "Okay, he's been here a very long time, may not be social. I'm just making certain your decision is based on all the information we have on him." Smiling and bending down to scratch the head of the dog, the boy, took the rope from his pocket and made a loop. He gently placed the homemade leash over its head and gave it a tug.
"He thinks he's going for a walk. We always walk him before dinner. It's the only exercise he gets,"
said the familiar voice. "What's his name?" asked the boy, age twelve with hair that was almost the same color as the coat of the dog. "He doesn't have a legal name," she answered. "Good, I'm gonna call him Sunny, because his eyes are bright."
The two joined an excited group of children and two adults in the waiting room. With the approval of his mom and dad, the group escorted the new family member to the waiting pick up truck. Sunny jumped in the bed of the dusty black two door, followed by the twelve-year-old, one four-year-old
and her favorite dolly. Two younger children joined the adults in the front seat.
It was a bouncy trip up the county road which connected the humane society to town. Once they were back to paved roads, Sunny steadied himself between the two children and breathed in everything at once. His ear flaps made him look like he was flying!
"We're home", squealed the two in the front seat. Sunny stepped down on to unfamiliar
green softness. It was cool, but not the sterile cool of the kennel floors. Children ran circles around him which caused excited barking. "Well, well", said the dad. He DOES have a voice after all. Sounds like a baritone!"
"It's perfect, just like in my dream", said the official owner. "I'm gonna let him loose and see where he goes." Sunny sat down.
The sun was setting, the wind was up and the dog's new bed was being warmed by the fire.
"I can't get him to move!" cried the little sister. "He's gonna freeze stiff", she wailed.
"Maybe he's waiting for his leash," said Dad. "He's used to being tied to people. I will bring him in."
"Let's sing carols", suggested Mom. "After all, it's Christmas Eve and if you want Santa to find us,you're going to have to sing your loudest!"
Sunny joined in and the faces usually grimaced with having to remember the lyrics, burst into hysterical laughter. Sunny's baritone voice could be heard over the combined laughter. He was telling Santa where to find them and not to bring any presents for him because he already had the most wonderful gift of his life - a family of his very own.
No comments:
Post a Comment