I’m lying here on my favorite pillows waiting for my human, who calls himself Skip, to come home. I know he doesn’t want me up on the furniture, but I’ll know as soon as he pulls in the driveway, plenty of time to get down and lie on the rug. I hear a truck rumble up the drive and grind to a halt. I know right away that it doesn’t belong to Skip, it’s not the mailman’s truck, not any of the other humans I have met. I jump down off the big soft sofa and pad to the door in order to investigate.
I hear footsteps on the porch and a light tapping on the door. The hair bristles up on the back of my neck, something is wrong, this human on the other side of the door doesn’t smell right. I back up, crouching down, and keep my eyes on the doorknob slowly turning. I send out a low growl to warn this stranger that I am here, ready to protect my home. On full alert now, my keen ears pick up an exhale of breath and now I catch a wafting odor of fear. To drive my point home I let loose with some serious man-killer barking! The knob stops turning and footsteps quickly recede down the porch stairs. An engine roars to life and I hear the truck’s tires screech as it speeds away.
I feel a warm flush of pride at having defended our home and hop back up on the sofa to continue my nap and wait for Skip. I wish I could tell him about what I did, but he only understands the most rudimentary parts of my language. I can hear his thoughts as plain as day and understand most of his words but try as I might, he just doesn’t understand mine. The only things I’ve been able to teach him are “feed me”, “let me outside”, “take me for a ride”, and “I love you!”
There are other things I’d like to be able to tell him, some that are really important to us both. A real biggie is to stop smoking those white sticks he calls “cigs”, they are making both of us sick! And I would like to explain to him to not get so angry and uptight when something bad happens. Instead of yelling and throwing things, just deal with it and let it go like I do. One time he threw that little box that he talks into all the time, and when its face shattered, he got really, really furious and he looked like some kind of monster! I had to run to the back bedroom and hide behind the bed until he calmed down.
I would also tell him to not sit in his chair and eat so much of that bad food (even though he sometimes shares it with me) while staring at that noisy flickering picture screen. We need to get outside and play more, have more fun. He needs to appreciate the joy of just riding in the car with the window rolled down and the wind in your face.
Another thing I don’t understand about humans is that they can’t seem to sense danger in each other. It only took me one sniff of the human he calls Jake to know that Jake was trouble. He reeks of danger and menace and smells just plain WRONG. Each time he comes to our home I try to warn my human by growling and never taking my eyes off Jake. But Skip doesn’t get it, in fact, he scolds me for not being friendly. So I keep vigilance and make sure Jake does no harm to my human.
Finally, I hear it, Skip’s car pulling in the drive and the garage door rumbling open. I run to the back door, tail wagging, waiting to greet him. The door opens and Skip walks in carrying a box and wearing a goofy grin. “Hey Shep, old buddy, I have a surprise for you!”
What’s that strange smell? I hear a mewling noise as he sits the box on the floor and stands back, looking expectantly at me.
No! No! No! I stare in horror as a calico kitten climbs up on the edge of the box and topples over to the kitchen floor. Our lives are ruined!
