Hoo-boy, can Miss Mia Sopaipilla take a piss in the press pool or what?
I gotta quit leaving the TV on when I go out for a ride. She’s getting notions from somewhere.
I mean, I feed her and clean her litter box, and she won’t even take my questions.
Freedom of the purr-ess
Miss Mia Sopaipilla eats on the counter?
She does. I think we started that to keep Turkish from eating her grub and it just sorta stuck.
Now that she’s old and creaky like Your Humble Narrator she will occasionally dine on the first step of the staircase she needs to climb up to the counter. Maybe I should try that myself.
Now, The Turk, that big boy loved him some sink time. Couldn’t keep him out of them.
Hatch eats on top of my little stereo stand. Mainly, to keep Annie the crazy red Chow from snagging Hatch’s food. Managing and choreographing the herd has always been interesting. Especially when we had two dogs and three cats.
We had two cats and a dog for a good long while — not always the same ones — and mealtime management was always something of a struggle.
Turk was such a hog that Miss Mia took to hoovering her chow at high speed before he could muscle her away from the bowl, and then she’d barf it all up. Wet cleanup on aisle one! Just what a fella likes to see before coffee.
When we used to dog sit Daisy while friends were away, our dog Beau would run Daisy off her food. I found the magic bullet for that, a door. During meal time Daisy in one room and Beau in the other with a closed door between them. We never had a cat. If we did, and it climbed into the kitchen sink, the magic bullet would be the faucet. We do miss the Duffy for sure, probably like you miss the Turk. When they get older we do almost anything for them including letting them lounge in the sink, heh? I am getting the urge for some poutine you hoser.
Ah, I miss ’em all, Paddy me lad. Turk curled up in a sink. Mister Boo celebrating a successful poo with a mad dash down a snowy sidewalk. Ike climbing the pergola unassisted but demanding that I fetch her down whenever she was ready. Her sister Tina, who with an assist from Ike taught us a valuable lesson about the too-short lives of outdoor cats.
Fuerte, Dog love her, and her daddy Jojo. Such great on-the-road buddies.
In his essay “Going Places,” Jim Harrison described his plans for a magical road trip that he hoped would take him from the novel he was finishing through a swamp and into the woods, where he’d find an old gray farmhouse:
“In this farmhouse I’ll find all my beloved dead dogs and cats in perfect health, tended by the heroines in my novels.”
I’ve never even tried to write a novel. But I can dig it. What a reunion.
“Every separate being in the universe returns to the common source.” We’ll see them all again soon enough.