I know it's weird, but I have always had pets that talk.
I think this started with my brother Bill who's imagination was, is and always will be huge and endless. For unexplicable reasons, he started calling our cat Midnight, Muchas Buchas (aka Muchas Buchas Puddinhead) and along with this silly nickname, she got a voice. It was kind of Morris-like but more feminine. And when your cat gets a voice, well, you have no choice but to talk to her.
Next, our puppy Samantha came with a voice. With the evolution of our talking animals, more personality traits came into play. For instance, Samantha was a photography student who preferred being pet with bare feet to being scratched with the hands. She was also exceptionally nerdy and needy. In high school my friend Kerry came over and we walked into the TV room where Sam was sitting. Sam had manners and greeted Kerry. Later, I reminded myself that perhaps Kerry hadn't known that it was Sam who was greeting her...that perhaps she thought that I was re-greeting in an effort to be an extree warm hostess. It is to larf.
I was reminded of this when the twins and their mom came over to play a couple of weeks ago. The mom was petting Dallas and Dallas (this time with Brian's, er, assistance) directed, "scratch my tummy" and I immediately jumped in with, "Uh, that was Dallas, by the way, NOT Brian". I mean, you can't just assume, right? I knew the mom was cool, or at least adaptable, when she directed a response right to Dallas. Nothing bothers me more than people who won't speak to my pets directly. It's rude, it is.
Although my speaking with animals is as normal a part of my life as wearing socks, I have become a little self-conscious about it because I have warped Annie to the point where she wants me to create a voice for everything, so maybe we are waiting at the pediatricians and her foot might say to mine, "Hi mommy!" and I don't want to be all, "hey kid, be cool" because it's best if she doesn't know we are too weird for public consumption, and yet I can't exactly have an all out mommy-and-baby foot conversation in front of the public at large, can I?
I knew that O would be my friend for life the first time we visited her and not only did her Jack Russell have a voice, she was also an alcoholic (martinis) with a smoker's rasp. When our then babies first sat down together, I felt as though I found family as Annie and Max, though only a few months old, had clear, defined voices and personalities to match. Sometimes it's the little things that choose your friends for you.
I think this started with my brother Bill who's imagination was, is and always will be huge and endless. For unexplicable reasons, he started calling our cat Midnight, Muchas Buchas (aka Muchas Buchas Puddinhead) and along with this silly nickname, she got a voice. It was kind of Morris-like but more feminine. And when your cat gets a voice, well, you have no choice but to talk to her.
Next, our puppy Samantha came with a voice. With the evolution of our talking animals, more personality traits came into play. For instance, Samantha was a photography student who preferred being pet with bare feet to being scratched with the hands. She was also exceptionally nerdy and needy. In high school my friend Kerry came over and we walked into the TV room where Sam was sitting. Sam had manners and greeted Kerry. Later, I reminded myself that perhaps Kerry hadn't known that it was Sam who was greeting her...that perhaps she thought that I was re-greeting in an effort to be an extree warm hostess. It is to larf.
I was reminded of this when the twins and their mom came over to play a couple of weeks ago. The mom was petting Dallas and Dallas (this time with Brian's, er, assistance) directed, "scratch my tummy" and I immediately jumped in with, "Uh, that was Dallas, by the way, NOT Brian". I mean, you can't just assume, right? I knew the mom was cool, or at least adaptable, when she directed a response right to Dallas. Nothing bothers me more than people who won't speak to my pets directly. It's rude, it is.
Although my speaking with animals is as normal a part of my life as wearing socks, I have become a little self-conscious about it because I have warped Annie to the point where she wants me to create a voice for everything, so maybe we are waiting at the pediatricians and her foot might say to mine, "Hi mommy!" and I don't want to be all, "hey kid, be cool" because it's best if she doesn't know we are too weird for public consumption, and yet I can't exactly have an all out mommy-and-baby foot conversation in front of the public at large, can I?
I knew that O would be my friend for life the first time we visited her and not only did her Jack Russell have a voice, she was also an alcoholic (martinis) with a smoker's rasp. When our then babies first sat down together, I felt as though I found family as Annie and Max, though only a few months old, had clear, defined voices and personalities to match. Sometimes it's the little things that choose your friends for you.
1 comment:
Aw, I love to be mentioned. Let's all remember that Potatos is in the hotel bar in the sky, showing her hoo-has to anyone who will look and licking the PallMall tar off her paws...
O
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