Sandy Supposes....

Sensibility?

Talk Tuesday! What would you prefer...talking pets, or humans with heightened animal sensibilities?

         I've long wondered what a cat is thinking when it stares with half-slitted eyes, unmoving; no blinking, no twitching, no flinching. It's entire demeanour is unruffled and difficult to read. Is it judging? Is it bemused? Is it dying to speak and render its opinion?

         What if that same feline could communicate? What if it could speak in a language I understood? Could there be a conversation, or an exchange of ideas? Would that sublime creature chastise me? Would it offer superior advice? I doubt we'd trade jokes, or pithy comments about the weather. I imagine a sarcastic, haughty tone. The cat would most likely observe that I expend far too much energy guessing, and then placating people. The advice would be to relax and chill. Perhaps, I'd be ordered about, and constantly criticized.

         I believe it would not be fair at all if that same feline retained its animal sensibilities. I envy that animal it's ability to leap straight into the air, effortlessly, without stretching, or preparation of any kind. It is all lithe strength. It pounces, stalks, and races with graceful ease. I'd like at least a vestige of that powerful grace. Regrettably and to my painful detriment, I am a klutz. Now, I'm not aspiring to leap buildings, or even furniture in a single bound, but I'd really appreciate being able to walk across a room, maintain my balance, and not bounce off bruise-inducing obstacles. Yes, I would like a wee bit of muscle control, agility, and strength.

         Ya, I'm not so sure I'd fully appreciate possessing a heightened sense of smell. Phew, no. Already I find perfume/aftershave scents to be overpowering. Vehicle exhaust is foul enough, as is a sewage odour.

         Hearing, I could experiment with an animal's keen sense of hearing. As a mother, the feeble hearing I had was my superpower. Crying, sniffling, gasping, moaning, sneezing, arguing, whispers, I could hear them all. Cabinets and doors were not stealth enough to elude me. No tip-toeing escaped my attention. Ah, the mischief and misfortune I could waylay if my ears honed in on sound like a cat. Then again, too much noise would be distracting, a cacophony. It would become overwhelming, and constant.

         Hmmm, it might not hurt if people could become more cuddly, and accepting like a pet. We could use more unconditional trust and love. Less condemnation and judgement would be a positive thing. Of course, now I'm describing a dog.