I'm no cat whisperer but I think I can tell the difference between a "Please could you lend me the benefit of your opposable digits and get me a scoop of cat food," meow and an "I don't give a can of tuna HOW busy you are, get over here and feed me, HUMAN!" meow.
But cats being cats, I probably would have continued making my Shake n Bake chicken and broccoli/cheese rice had Sarah, the cat, not ambushed me with an endless volley of those demanding meows. In a minute; Wait your turn; I'm busy; Hold your kitty gotch; and even Shut up were not working so I slowly went over to her as she hovered around the cat food bag, (was that a triumphant glint in her eyes?), said, "I don't think so," and scooped her up. The wailing continued even as I carried her to the door and deposited, (not to say chucked), her outside.
I continued my broccoli chopping and shaking and baking. Boy Dana Carvey could make a great Bruce Springsteen song outta THAT! "I was a shakin' and a bakin' and a choppin' bra-co-lay-hay. I was a choppin' bro co lay yay yay... At any rate the entire time Sarah continued her assault through the front door glass and it was only less annoying in the amount of volume it had decreased. I could still hear her and her orders had not changed to requests.
Once the rice was cooking and the bird was in the oven I filled up the cat's bowls with food and water, walked to the door and let the screaming authoritarian in. Her tone was now like a kid blowing on a piece of grass between his thumbs. All I could do was let her yowl, "NAEEEENNNGGG! NAAEEENNNNG! NAEEEENNNNGGG! NAEEE-" until she finally spotted her full bowl of food.
Only three days earlier I awoke and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Again I don't claim to have my finger on the pulse of the feline society and their fiendish plot to gain the indentured servitude of mankind, but I am pretty sure Sarah didn't need anything, she just wanted to test her powers. YEAAOOOW YEEAAAOOOWWW YEEEAAAAAAOOOOOWWW! So I let her out. Not 5 minutes later YEEAAOOOWWW YEAAAOOOOWWW YEEAAAAOOOWWW! SO I let her in. Not 2 minutes later, YYYEEEEAAAAOOOOWWWW YYEEAAAOOOWWW at the door! SO I let her out again. Where she remained. For TWO HOURS looking through the glass and pausing only long enough to inhale, YYEEEAAOOOOOWWWW YEEEAAOOOOWWW YEEAAAAAOOOOWWWW!
That day after I let her in and today after she got her food I received the same reaction. And, once again, I may not be schooled in the art of pet telepathy but I think I know the difference between a happy rub and thankful purr or meow and an arrogant strut and a "Don't you forget who's boss around here," meow.
The question, I suppose, is why is this bugging me so much? I think it might have something to do with my efforts at finding stuff to do around here. I'm not just talking about work since the only job I've been able to land so far in Smithers has been my low-pay, midnight shift, weekend, part-time, no benefit, high stress, highly complicated job that I have been told by many folks would be refused by them even if it paid a fortune. But don't get me wrong, I LOVE it!
It's also sports. Everywhere in Canada I've lived I've played sports. It's probably the thing I missed most about home while living in Korea. It's the thing I looked forward to coming home to the most. Here I am practically begging people to be on their golf or softball teams and they look at my size and appearance and say to themselves, "How could someone so out of shape, old, bald and ugly play sports?" I'm not trying to be the bashful, modest self-deprecator and solicit remarks like, "Aw, you're not THAT ugly..." But what else could they be judging me by? And let's be honest, if I looked like Brad Pitt I just might get a try-out. But whatever they're thinking to themselves, to ME they say, "Hem hem haw haw we already have enough players, hem hem haw haw we aren't looking for anyone in that position right now hem hem haw haw..."
I know they're looking and I know I'm a better player than this jackwagon looking down his nose at me or not looking at me at all and lying his ass off! But I can't say that because it's bad manners and then for SURE they won't want me on their team. (this is an update... this is an update: My friend Frank told me that there used to be 15 or 16 teams in Smithers but this year there are only 11. Lots of them amalgamated. So maybe they really DON'T need extra players. See, ball players are a good bunch. They're off the hook I suppose.)
Same thing with work. I went to the board of education office and even though I've done teacher assistance work and subbed with this very school system and in this very town and now have a dozen years of full time teaching under my belt they say, "Hem hem haw haw we need our subs to be fully certified hem hem haw haw we aren't really looking for subs in your areas of expertise hem hem haw haw..."
I know people who work at the schools in town and they tell me they are always looking for subs and a lot of the people they get are not fully certified. The certified teachers are looking for FULL time work, not subbing jobs. But I can't say, "So you're telling me that all your substitute teachers are fully certified? What about Joe Shmoe, Jim So-and-so or Stella Whats-her-name?" That would be confrontational and then for SURE they wouldn't want me on their teaching team even though I KNOW I could teach circles around a lot of the subs they are using certified or not.
I'm feeling like the author of the Kama Sutra getting shot down repeatedly in a dance bar full of unsatisfied girls and clumsy, amateur, unsexed dudes. The girls are saying, "Hem hem haw haw I don't speak Sanskrit, hem hem haw haw you smell a bit like curry hem hem haw haw..."
I guess what I'm saying is "Hem hem haw haw" is starting to sound exactly like "NYAAAEEEEOOOOWWW," and Sarahs meows have the same effect as the hemming and hawing: The more I hear them the more I wish for a good old mutt that will show me a little frickin' appreciation!
Ahhhh, there we go. Thanks, River!
No comments:
Post a Comment