What can I see…with one eye covered?            What can I hear… with one ear smothered?

Just give it a whirl..so you can see….                Nothing ever changes… for you and me! 

So I try, I try to be an Angel Doggie but for reasons I can not quite fathom, I am just a bit mouthy, expressing myself mournfully or forcefully (sometimes) with attitude and a look that could drill a hole through pressure heated hardened steel or cut through Kevlar…. You choose…

Now it may be in my DNA, it may be that I was born an Aquarius, it may be I need Anger Management Training but, like Lady Ga-Ga, I was Born-This-Way….If you would let me ponder…. I believe it is because I am overly sensitive, notice every minute detail and think I am in charge of correcting it…oh, and I may be OCD…do doggies get that, ya think?

And Momma (being Momma), taps right in to my sanctimonious, put-everyone-in-their-place-and-you-better-stay-there moods.  It is a challenge to not to disappoint Momma….again.  She doesn’t chastise me but it is that look in her eyes… besides she feeds me!

So,  oops, I did it again…because…I can’t mind my own business (that asks far too much of me)….and it is not my fault the Good God Almighty gave me ears that hear those butterfly wings flap in Africa. 

One day (true story) as I am having a peaceful nap, falling into a REM state where dreams become sharp and clear, and you become part of the action, floating through yellow buttercups, the wind ruffling your furry ears and I hear Diva Calico Gen spring and land on the table in the kitchen.

First off, it is no fair a cat can so deftly jump from a floor to a table, in a standing position, no less and I can’t…I resent that…but mostly importantly, I have heard Momma admonish the cats time and time again for doing so.. Yet when I go rushing in to the kitchen in attack mode, snarling and barking, and Diva Calico Gen jumps off the table and takes off, so…of course it is my job, Man, to pursue her, jump on her back, chew her ears,

The problem is Momma doesn’t like the barking, the meowing, the chase around the house like wild stallions thundering across fields and dells and who gets the blame? Me.  I roll my eyes, I look accusingly at Diva Calico Gen and go thump down on the cool hardwood floor with a lengthy sigh.  Like: Yakety yak Yakety Yak.  Don’t talk back…

Now, you know already, Momma like to live in PEACE so she will always seek me out later and explain she knew Diva Calico Gen had plotted that scenario, right down to knowing I attack the Cat, Momma attacks me.  That Diva Calico Gen covers her mouth with her paw to conceal her mirth at my folly, every time… like Tom & Jerry and Tweety Bird, just scorches my very soul.

I mean even Bad Boy Andy doesn’t do that…actually he should be called…Good Boy Andy.  He just wants to groom me or sleep beside me.  Hush Hush Sweet Charlie, well, upon occasion, she will hop on the Coffee table but I stand up and cuff her with my fluffy paw, she runs a bit, waits for me to catch up…. No tattling with Hush Hush Sweet Charlie …. she believes in that  ‘Don’t ask, Don’t tell’ philosophy of higher thinkers, thank you.

One day I am going to surprise even Momma.  I will ignore Diva Calico Gen.         If you don’t play, you can’t lose…I am assuming….

Okay so Momma, we got to talk….I got a system…and truly I’d appreciate (no offense), if you just keep up, okay.

Let me start by thanking you for having toy boxes in different areas of the house, crammed full of chew bones, balls, stuffed toys and sundry.  I am eight years old now…and an Aquarius…I am super organized…Like Your-Sister-Who-Taught You-Most-the Things-You-Know, I am an inventory genius.  I know where every item is, FIFO (first–in–first–out) and where I want to keep it…so let sleeping toys lie, already!

It always happens when you are cleaning house…which you do far too often, I’m thinking…I can never get a break, day after day, shuffling from room to room to avoid the chaos you create when the brooms and mops appear and dust gets flying.

And I admit, I am guilty.  I take toys out of my box and just drop them willy-nilly, like a Princess with an entourage, to clean up after me.  Oh, I am perfect in countless ways but Momma never trained me to pick up my toys every night and put them back in the bins. Blame Momma…again…of course!

No, Momma enabled me, cleaning up after me….so when she recently found Babby on the sun room floor instead of putting him in the bin right there, she took him in to the living room basket. Trained, Momma is, but by who….I ask you?? 

Well, you know what I had to do.  I went right in, dug out Babby and plunked right where I had left him in the middle of the sun room floor. If I wanted Babby somewhere else, I’d put him somewhere else…Got that Momma?  Tigger stays on Wonder Boy’s bed so I can sleep with him all night, Pink Fluffy Bunny has a corner by the pillow on the couch in the living room so I can rest on him during the day and Babby is my sun room solace… along with whatever else I feel like playing with at any given time… on any given day.

Truly it’s not so difficult to follow….but we all know Momma is highly contrary and marches to the beat of a drummer only she can hear….my advice…to paraphrase Pink would be:

You gotta show up and try, and try, 
Gotta show up and try, and try….

So….we good, Momma?

What the world longs to know…..

Why great nations fall …

Your secrets are safe with me…

Just trust me…I’ll never tell.  :)))

So………..that is what my tail looks like…

Momma always telld me that it is plumed with the longest, silkiest, creamiest fur, as it rides high, carried over and swishing my back…

From where I’m sitting, I can’t see it myself but I don’t have eyes in the back of my head…

And, you know and I know… well, you can’t always trust my Momma to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…so help Her God….

You know I am all about the Rules…even the ones I have to make up on the spur of the moment when called for….but some of them are just common sense.  What part of that does Momma not understand?

Take for instance (and this should be a given) when I have kept Wonder Boy company all night long…I believe…I firmly believe I should not be disturbed by Momma, even if it is for something like my favourite thing in the world, going for a walk. If Wonder Boy is sleeping in because he was up late, well, so was I, right by his side, all night long, all night…all night long.

I really don’t care Momma if you want to go  for my walk in the cool of the morning air, before it reaches 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade…dress down a little…I mean, I am not one of those furless cats, yet do you hear me complaining?

So Momma stealthily enters Wonder Boy’s room, gives me ‘the look’…. I ignore her.   By the powers invested in her by the Sweet Baby Jesus, she telepathically forces me to open my eyes. She holds her finger to her lips, motioning  ‘ssssshhhhh’ with one hand, while the other hand indicates ‘Come on, walk time.’  Sure Momma. Later Momma.  I close my eyes.

But Momma is like those driven, doggedly persistent feral cats.…Maybe that’s why she is so attached to them… Giving up or giving in is not in her dictionary. She bends over, scratches my head, my ears and my belly and, well, I can resist cat food, doggy treats, food left on the coffee table in the living room but belly scratches, like an addict on crack cocaine, I can’t say no to a belly rub….I am yours 4ever…..  I hop over Wonder Boy, splat on the floor and we are off….and darn, does this mean Momma won again?

Once up and at it, I feel fine.  I hold no grudge.  However, I have to say, it appears my work is not done yet on training Momma. Kind of like that song she sings, only Paraphrased to suit  the Guilty as Charged:

Momma’s under construction – Maybe her paint is still wet….. 
Momma’s under construction – The Almighty’s not finished with her yet….(Bill Gaither and Larry Paxton)….But He’s trying….He’s Trying!…and              Good Luck With That!

We  gotta love the man…We  gotta love the man….
We take him by the hand…We make him understand…
The world on him depends.
So our life will never end…We gotta love the man, yeah….

All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm….
Into this house we’re born…Into this world we’re thrown…
Like a dog without a bone…An actor out on loan….
All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm…
All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm….

(Paraphrase The Doors)

I have a Little Aura…That goes in and out with me… And every where my Aura goes… I am sure to be…

There’s some out there, not lucky… They don’t Believe, you see… But you and me lived many lives… Our Auras were not free…….

(Paraphrase Robert Louis Stevenson)

It is good to be…well…me. Sure I have to share Momma and Wonder Boy with the cats (rolling my eyes) but bet your booty, I get dibs, wedged on the right side of the easy chair, demanding attention, should Bad Boy Andy decide to step on Momma’s lap  to knead her ratty old black sweater, like it was his Birth Mama and him….together again….and nothing else matters….cuz they’re together again…where did I hear that before…oh, yeah same as a Conway Twitty song… 

Then Diva Calico Gen, not to be left out of any love fest, hops on the right arm of the chair, sniff kisses Momma and starts with the love bites, not liked by me, not tolerated by Momma. Okay, this is not going to work.   Momma only has two arms with hands… last I checked, she is not an octopus….and preferably both hands are massaging my body….because I’m Special, So Special… and may I add,  The Baby of the Family…sorry, no consideration for Seniors….just stand in line and wait your turn. Game over, as Momma stands up abruptly, knocking Andy from his perch and scattering Gen at the same time.  They troupe off in a huff and I got Momma to myself…Divine.  I’ll make it up to them later, play tag with Gen…let her win…and sit through a grooming session by Andy because their my buds…I don’t want them mad at me…I just want Momma’s attention, first, last and always.

Then there is the Ever-Wise Charlie….so humble…she would never overstep her Momma boundaries.  If Andy and Gen are outside, she will slink silently in to the living room, hop on to the couch, inching ever closer to me, settling down for a nap, trusting that I will protect her with a ferocious bark or growl, should any threat enter.  Sometimes, if Momma is alone in the easy chair, Charlie will jump on the arm rest, paws tucked underneath her, Egyptian Style but only if         1) I am not sharing the chair with Momma because she would never try to steal attention away from me, the Ultimate Earth Dog and 2) The Bad Boy and Calico Gen are long ago and far away. Charlie and I are simpatico…we understand the world at large better than most living things.

So who else claims Momma’s attention?  Well….you know, that Come-From-Away-Whenever-I-Want–Clem-Kadiddle-Hopper. He is not around that much and gives me no grief…still, it is another waste of Momma’s time as she clucks and fusses over him, giving him big bowls of food in his special cat dish, runs with buckets (okay, I exaggerate) bowls of water…that is like the thirstiest cat I have ever seen.  Did no one tell him cats venerated in Ancient Egypt?  Then there is the whole clear the track so he can hide under the claw tub.  He is High Maintenance, very High Maintenance.  Good job I like Clem or this would never do!

Somehow, I always manage to win attention from Momma when-I-want-it, for-as-long-as-I-want-it….so my all other Four Footed allies, just have to lump-it-or-like-it!. She feeds me, grooms me (endlessly – more eye rolling), walks me, talks to me (yeah, people look at her funny), plays with me, scratches me…oh, I  have my Momma well-trained.

For all you Four Footed Creatures, there is always a way to last longer, shine brighter, grab the spotlight of life, capture the mind and soul                    so you win the most (Wo)Man      hours….M.A.N.I.P.U.L.A.T.E.                                 Hear the Brothers shout:                      ‘Amen, Amen, Amen,  Amen,  Amen!’