I sit here working on a chapter with dragons and humans, cross species hybrids and the dog is sleeping, snoring like a helicopter taking off and I hear a tap on the door to my little corner of the world.
Now, let me set this up, into my little work area is a nice corner where I can look out a glass door into the back yard. Often it’s a sigh of “Gotta go out and cut the grass, but then, I get to sit and admire the yard. A copper (real copper!) kettle that serves as a fire pit, gas-powered grill, concrete patio. A pleasant little setup.
to the other end, we have 4 doors leading in. Two doors from the area of the house I call the “Great Room” The single largest room in the house. One door is open, allowing traffic in and out. The other door, normally is open. It’s about twenty-five feet from the first door mentioned.
Spike the cat, sits at the French Door, at the bottom pane of glass and meows, and meows, …and meows. To be let in.
Now, I am not one to say my pets are not the brightest bulb in the box, I try to get him to go around.
But he tells me he is STARVING. And dying of thirst! He needs out of the room to get to his food and water.
After about twenty minutes of this and me telling him (Like he really understands English) to go around, I get up and open the door.
“THANK YOU THANK YOU! It was a close one, sir. I nearly starved to death!”
Yeah, right. Okay.
I could feel the breeze blowing through the house as soon as I opened the door, it clicked shut before I had taken my seat again.
Sitting down and typing away about dragons and university, a banging sound comes from the closed glass door.
Spike the cat, once again, was on the wrong side and wanted OUT of the Great Room.
Telling him to go around was a fail. I poked my head through the open door and he trotted over to me.
“Thank you! You are brilliant!”
“Good, now you know the way out.”
Five minutes later, he is back at the wrong side of the door begging me to let him out.
I didn’t bother to yell at him, I got up and opened the door and he saunters in, tail up, nodding to the other cat.
Then it dawns on me.
WHO is the one being trained here?
That’s what I thought, too. So I opened the door all the way.
One well-trained human with illusions of being in charge, it is just what the cats want you to think.
Oh well, back to writing, a dark chocolate square about one inch square (about 2.5 cm and 99% cocoa) and bourbon for the evening snack.
Uh, excuse me, I have to let the cat into the kitchen now. (even though it has two doors and one is open…) I’ll train the cat someday.