... this reminds me of a hard lesson that I've had to learn about cats. Now, I know I said that cats are "pants" ... but for my well-being, and the cats', it's a mistake to think that I could simply chase all the pesky critters right off the planet. Its just not possible, and actually it's not even healthy for us dogs to declare war. Chasing them is wooftastic sport - yes, but though it pains me to say it: we do have to live together in relative harmony.
I'm reminded of a quote from that great canine philosopher, Snoopy: "Sometimes when I get up in the morning, I feel very peculiar. I feel like I've just got to bite a cat ! I feel like if I don't bite a cat before sundown, I'll go crazy ! But then I just take a deep breath and forget about it. That's what is known as real maturity." And to that, I'd just add: 'real wisdom'. I always try to keep this in mind when I see one of them fekin moggies sneering down at me from the neighbour's wall.
Anyhow, Trev's mood changed when I put my paw on his arm. He seemed to understand what it meant. He laughed ruefully, and his voice changed: "Honestly Gizmo, anyone would think that you can really understand everything I've been saying."
This was actually quite amusing for me as well. Had he only just realised: we did understand each other. Of course we did. Maybe not in the conventional human way, with words, but he certainly understood the point of my paw gesture, and I understood what he'd been telling me - from the music of his voice, the looks into my eyes, and his tears. We were communicating perfectly, with emotions, rather than words.
As I say, it's funny really. On the one hand, humans don't think us woofers can understand a word they're saying, but then, on the other hand, they expect us to come running as soon as they call our names; or not to lick that tasty horse shit when they tell us what it will do to your stomachs. We can chew bones, but not their slippers, and when they explain this, they expect us to understand and obey.
Hey, Trev even used to talk to me about his problems with Sharon. "I'm in the dog house again" he'd say to me, as he took me for my morning walk. "'Er Indoors is giving me grief again", and he'd go on for the next fifteen minutes about it, when all I really wanted was for him to let me off the lead and throw a ball for me to chase. Right, OK then, I'm a Man's Best Friend, so I'll listen to his tales of woe about 'Er Indoors, but they really should make up their minds about this, and decide whether we can understand their lingo or not.
Your average family pooch isn't bothered about any of this. Basically he'll just suit himself, and only really respond to commands when he feels like it, or when biscuits are involved. However, I'm a bit different. I think I've already mentioned that I'm a highly intelligent super-sophisto woofer. When it comes to understanding difficult stuff like this, I'm the mutt's nuts, the dog's danglies. So, as I've explained, I can communicate directly using state-of-the-art canine communications: gestures, sounds, smells and emotions.
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