On hard cases "the look" doesn't work
I had the oddest of couple of days with my whole values system thrown up in the air. Now I don't know where I stand anymore and it's freaking me out, Man!
First, there was the visitor.
She is a friend of Mook B's and the fact that she is a she should have made her visit a cinch. She'd like me! Automatic! Look at Cate, and Sis and the squadron of nurses who have walked through my little enclave! It was always love at first sight. But this one, this visitor, was a hard case. First, she smelled like cat. Right away I knew that I had to adapt my way of approaching her; cat people are not normal. So basically, to get her attention I sat next to her and once or twice put my paws on her lap. I did not do the Big Bird (that's Dogspeak for: snuffle up her guss), so, really, she had nothing to complain about.
But damned if she didn't complain! I mean, she didn't pitch hysterics like some people do (there are actually people on the street who will cross to the other side if they see me coming toward them on the sidewalk!). No, she was just cold as ice and—the bitch!—ordered me to go lie down. Well, fuuuuuuuuuuuuck you! I thought and then started to go at her in earnest. Finally Mook B picked me up and carried me over to to Mook A, who was hiding in the living room, and I curled up with him during the rest of the woman's stay. A tried to commiserate but he doesn't understand: when you have tricks to get around people and they don't work, it's a bad, bad thing.
The other encounter was as strange, if not stranger. I was toddling along on my walk with Mook A, two days ago, and we came across one of the many, many street cats. However, this cat is one I know and I know her because she's not a hissing, spitting loon like many of the others tend to be. She pretty much goes on her way and let's me go on mine.
But this time she was curled up on top of a wall taking in a bit of sun and as I passed by she said, "Hey you!" I froze. Cats and dogs speak the same language but in very different dialects. We can understand each other, we just don't bother trying. I didn't know what to do or say so I just looked at her and snerfed, "Yes?" Mook A was walking me and stopped walking. He likes to see what will happen between me and other animals...don't ask me why. She went on, "You're a pretty little thing." If dogs could blush, I'd be blushing. It's one thing to be told—over and over and over again—by humans and other dogs that you're cute—you get used to it. But when a cat is telling you this, it's a big motherfucking surprise. What's worse, is she was a fine looking specimen too: black and white with a huge sleek face like out of a commercial. "Come on over," she said.
Now this is the thing: I can handle heights, but I'm no Cirque du Soleil faggot, walking about on tight-ropes and all. But she was irresistible. So I hopped up onto the wall (which was on the side of a basement stairwell which meant the farther you go, the bigger the drop), and putting one foot very carefully in front of the other, I went over to see her. "What's your name?" she said. "The call me Leo." She rolled her eyes a little (I think that's cat-laughter) and said, "I'm Cleo." I snerfed a laugh. Then we said nothing. Here's the thing, though: she moved her nose toward mine...slowly...slowly...and before I knew it we were rubbing noses. She hummed, "You smell like fish." "So do you." (Note: this passes for a compliment in the animal world.) Then she said, "See you around." And that was that...
...except for the little matter of getting back to the sidewalk which required me walking backward, one step at a time, while trying not to look down at the six foot drop. When I got back to A he was insane with happiness and was bellowing, "I'm so proud of you! And look! Look! You've made a new friend! And boy, you can use all the friends you can get." At this Cleo made a strange little mocking sound and, again, if I could have blushed I would have.
Back at home A described my encounter to B in vivid detail like it was the news of a the decade.
I, on the other hand, pretended to have a nap but was really imagining the thousand ways I could get to know Cleo...in the biblical sense.
Hey! Pussy is pussy!
No comments:
Post a Comment