Performances

It should be noted that the new doggie door I recently installed was for my two dogs only; that is to say, for Simon and Pericles (rhymes with please).  These are my two dogs--a basset and a beagle.  Pericles is the beagle, being more astute, more quick on the uptake, more wary of his surrounding.  And he sleeps less.

And they both find their way with this utility, a conduit from the outdoors to the comfort of the home via a ramp to the yard and a swinging door hinged at the top.  Pericles bounds up with enthusiasm, whereas Simon waddles up as if laden with anthracite coal in sacks attached to his hindquarters.  Pericles smacks the entry flap smartly, announcing himself in a stylish exuberance of, Here I Am! whereas Simon oozes in like viscous molasses which seems to tax even the brass hinges of this newly installed convenience for canines. (And a convenience for this human as well.)  Pericles will often turn and, with tilted head, watch Simon take his good old time, eyeing him with ennui.

This is how it went for a few weeks until tonight (a few hours ago as I write this) when a black cat also entered the kitchen via the aforementioned doggie door.  I did a double take upon seeing three creatures instead of the usual two.  They were sitting on the linoleum floor in front of the microwave oven cart in this order: Pericles, the black cat, and Simon.  Kinda reminded me of an Oreo cookie in reverse, my two dogs having an abundance of white mixed in with their tan.

I do not know the black cat’s name, but I have seem him in the neighborhood.  He roams from yard to yard, sashays from driveway to porch as if some retired census taker in search of data he can gnaw.  He owns the neighborhood, or so it seems.  And I think he’s old.  Once when I went for a walk, I passed him as he was just sitting in the middle of the road.  I spoke to him with concern, advising him with something like, “Cat, you better get out of the middle of the road!”  Of course, he just gave me that look cats are want to do, indicating that I was speaking out of turn.

But now back to my three critters so aligned as to draw both my attention and my concern.  All three spoke to me with their eyes, more or less: Pericles, with peepers keen and sharp; Simon, eyes lazy, distant; the black cat; his shrewd and cunning.  They seemed to be a political committee, lobbying. 

They did not want my attention--nay, theirs was primeval appetite (such was my astute ability to surmise), and thus I offered up treats applicable to each species.  Perciles wolfed his down with the exuberance of life, sparkling gratitude displayed in happy eyes.  Simon lipped his as if he was doing me a favor, eyes back somewhere in the hills of Kentucky.  The black cat, however, looked at me with an indignation as if I dare serve him without first cutting the treats into fourths.  Somehow, he got his way.

I had not expected a trio of performers so, an animal act coordinated with undertones of both psychology and comedy.  But it happened, and it made my evening.  And I could not help but think of that old Beatles’ song, Get Back, where at the end John Lennon says, "I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we've passed the audition" 

Two dogs and a cat did.


605 Words
Writer’s Cramp
12-2-15