<<Okay, this is an exercise I came up with for the humor writing class I'm taking. I don't know if the teacher was too impressed, but I think it's funny. Oh yeah, I crack myself up sometimes.>>
It's fascinating to watch the way animals organize themselves. Our household was a happy one, made up of four pink monkeys and two cats, Woody and Sara Smile. Yes, named after the Hall & Oates song. Woody is a big neutered male with the softest fur E-V-E-R. He's part Gumby and can usually be found draped across the lap of the largest male monkey with his nose tucked into the crook of the monkey's elbow.
Sara Smile's name was originally Speedo, but there's nothing fast about this cat, so we changed it when she moved in with us. At the time, Sara Smile seemed like a nice name for the pretty little kitten with thick grey fur and bright green eyes.
We should have named her Invisi-kitty. Or maybe Evapo-cat. We go whole days without seeing her except at mealtimes, when she crawls up in our faces and demands service. She frequently appears disgruntled with her monkeys. When we see her, that is.
Oh, and the other way we know she's around? She pees on the living room couch. Nice kitty.
So into this balanced, if somewhat dysfunctional mix, we introduced Burnsie. He's a nine-month-old puppy; part lhassa apso, part terrier, all goofy. Because, really, those cats needed to be taken down a peg.
Woody was the early adapter. He spent three or four days watching Burnsie from the upper elevations. By week two they could inhabit the same six-foot space. By week three, Woody would allow Burnsie to drag him around the house by the ears. So much for Woody's tough-guy persona.
And Sara, Sara Smile? She has yet to adapt. She's even less visible and more demanding at mealtimes. Oh, and last week we had to buy a new couch.