If my dog, Quinn, is in his usual place on the love seat in the living room, he won’t come immediately when I call “doggie supper.”
He waits until I actually pick up the dog bowls.
It’s sad when your pets recognize your faults.
Quinn, a sensitive and perceptive chocolate lab, knows that I sometimes get sidetracked after announcing dinner will be served. I am easily distracted. One day, for example, I was sitting in the living room with Quinn and his little sister, Martha. “I guess it’s time for doggie lunch,” I said, and headed for the kitchen.
Then I saw our gray fluff ball of a cat, Annie, stretched out on a window seat. I’d put a fresh throw on the seat, and it seemed like each of our four cats was taking a turn lying on it. Cats love to recline upon new things. They are claiming ownership on the recently laundered, I guess.
Anyway, I just had to take a picture of her so I could post it on Facebook. I had to find my phone first. Then I had to take several shots, look at them, take a few photos from a different angle, call Annie’s name so she would look up at me…yes, it was a good 10 minutes from the time I “rang” the dinner bell to when I actually served up the grub.
Quinn had not budged during this entire time. But when I rinsed the dog bowls in the sink, he was right behind me.
Martha is not so distrustful. She is a hyperactive girl; her caregivers at the veterinary clinic call her the “happy nut.” Martha doesn’t mind following me around as I go from room to room. She doesn’t even mind if I don’t have a plan. We are happy nuts together.
This is not to say that Martha doesn’t take advantage of my foibles. She knows I am a messy eater. So, on a weekend morning, when I’m still lounging around in my terry bathrobe, she may come to see whether there is a bit of cereal stuck to my front. It is possible, I admit. But it also is humiliating that my dog knows this. “Hmm, feeling peckish. I think I’ll check out Mumma’s housecoat!”
Sometimes Martha will stand under the dining room table in hopes that crumbs will fall. And when I’ve cleared the table, she’ll check out my place mat for random peas or pieces of pasta. A skinny mix of lab and pit bull, Martha is the type of dog who can balance on her hind legs. She stretches up and places one paw delicately on the table as she forages.
These two activities are forbidden, but Martha doesn’t care. Quinn often shows remorse for bad behavior, but she never does.
He will join her in the kitchen whenever the smell of cheese is in the air. I will give them each a tiny morsel, but they are really there to see if I am grating. Because I am as enthusiastic a cook as I am an eater, there’s every possibility that a few pieces will fly off and land on the floor.
I am not a strict disciplinarian, and both dogs and all four cats know this. The cats Annie and Clara now believe that when I take a mug off its hook, the half and half is coming out of the fridge. That’s not necessarily true, as I might be making green tea. But I am usually brewing black tea or coffee. Their “meows for milk” start when they see me heading for the cups. So I end up giving them a drink even if I’m not using the cream.
Good mumma, bad mumma. Which am I?
Another bad habit I have is making piles. Paperwork, newspapers, items that need to go upstairs or downstairs…it seems to be a natural activity for me. My cats know this and love it. Annie especially enjoys lying on newspapers. She finds it most satisfying when I am actually reading the newspapers, but a sitting stack will do.
Clara’s favorite spot is on the chair in the room that I think of as my boudoir. It is a tiny upstairs bedroom that we originally used as a guest room. A few years back, we removed the sofa bed and moved it into a new room on the first floor that we added to the house four years ago.
The former guest room now contains a dresser and chifforobe, a freestanding antique sewing machine, and a modern sewing machine on a desk. It seems natural for me to use this as a place to collect hand washables before laundering them, hang freshly ironed clothes, and keep my folded “at home” wear on a chair. It is on this pile of clothes that Clara likes to hang out.
Sometimes, when I am in the mood to tidy up (it happens), I consider moving Clara, who looks so comfortable. Unfortunately for me but fortunately for Clara, the feeling quickly passes, and the pile remains for my cat to lounge upon yet another day.
I’d like to think my pets recognize my good points as well. They surely must know that I always make their best interests a priority. I let Quinn stay on the love seat even if I want to lie down on it. I let Martha sit on my lap even though she weighs 40 pounds. If the cats wake me at 3 a.m., I give them a little food. I’m not happy about it, but I do.
But in my heart of hearts I know that nothing I do can compare with the joy they feel when they find something edible sticking to my bathrobe. I can almost hear them yelling “Score!”
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