...because we don't keep this cat around for her brains.
Yesterday I got a package, wrapped in those little sticky pull-tabs, which I removed and left on the table while I opened up the rest. From what I can tell, Neko must have wandered up onto the table, explored the remains of the packaging, and then sat on the tabs. Stupidity ensued.
My favorite part comes at around 1:16 in, when she runs under the stepladder and becomes startled all over again at this invisible thing that has clamped onto her haunches.
In which I inflict more pictures of my pets on the world.
But seriously, they're just getting a little too close to each other lately.
They're beginning to synchronize. I think they may be plotting something. Besides, look at this cat:
Remind you of anyone?
Be afraid. BE VERY AFRAID.
I tell people that I'm not entirely comfortable with doggy daycare. It seems like something that rich yuppies do, and I instinctively cringe at the possibility of rich yuppiedom, especially living around here. But we get it half-price after Belle's part-time dogwalker discount, he only goes three days a week, and the results... well, let them speak for themselves:
That dog is knocked. out.
The dog does not wear clothes. I am adamant about this. While Belle suggests that he needs a coat or boots for the cold Virginia winters, I insist (despite all evidence to the contrary) that Wallace has dignity and we will not abuse it.
That said, he looks pretty sexy in these boxers, no? Much more work-safe than before!
When Wallace and I go for car rides, we have a little song that we sing. The lyrics go something like this:
You're not vomitin'
You're not vomitin'
You're not vomitin'
'Cause you're a not-vomitin' dog.
Its melody is a bit like a non-gendered toy commercial jingle from the 80's. I start the song whenever Wallace starts to look vaguely carsick--which, even for a dog of great intelligence and expressiveness like our puppy, can be hard to judge. Better safe than sorry. So far it is working, although whether it is the power of suggestion or the fact that we've only taken one trip since I've started singing, I couldn't say.
We sing this song because Wallace did throw up in my car the other day. He's had vehicular accidents before, but it was always in Belle's car. It is simply human nature: dog vomit all over your girlfriend's property is a pity, but also slightly amusing. Dog vomit on your own property is a capital crime. But in my defense, what Wallace produced in my car was orders of magnitude more disgusting than what I saw in hers. The stench from his Exorcist impression was honestly the most disgusting thing I have ever smelled, much less mopped up with a paper towel. I don't know how he contained it--I think it started eating through the floor mats. He's such a mild-mannered dog, it's sometimes hard to imagine that he's capable of these Geneva Convention violations.
What's really funny is that I have started to worry, and Belle is relatively nonchalant about his uneasy stomach, which is a reversal of our usual roles. Normally, the interaction goes more like this:
Thomas: (not looking up from the book/video game/television) That's just something that dogs do, babe. My dogs played in the blender half the time. He'll be fine. It builds character.
But in response to my concerns that perhaps we should change Wallace's food, Belle raises an eyebrow. "Dogs throw up all the time," she says. And she has a point. Dogs do throw up on a regular basis. They are scavenging animals, after all. In fact, for some dogs, it is just another means of communication. Where cats bring you dead animals as gifts, the dog might imagine that nothing could express his joy and simple love for you nearly as much as the contents of his digestive system. It's near the bottom of his heart, right?
Or at least, I find that it helps to think of it that way. Especially when I'm breaking out the paper towels again.
People often describe our dog Wallace as "handsome," and he is indeed a handsome dog. But is he merely handsome? No! There is a veritable flood of adjectives for this puppy! Words like "tasteful":
Belle: We have to name her!
Thomas: Okay. How about "Pumpkin?" My parents had a tortoiseshell named Pumpkin. She was a good cat.
Belle: But she doesn't look like a pumpkin. When I think of a cat named pumpkin, I think of a big orange cat.
Thomas: Fair enough.
Belle: How about "Meko?" M-E-K-O.
Thomas: Where did that come from?
Thomas: What about "Neko" instead? It's Japanese for cat.
Belle: So we're naming our cat "Cat?"
Thomas: I guess so.
Wallace says hello.