Talk To The Animals

I know people talk to their pets.

I do.

When MaxGoldberg comes up to me, I ask him if he wants a kissy-kissy....I know....and he puts his head up to my mouth and I kiss the top of his head. I ask again and again, and he does it again and again.

I tell Tuxedo it's time for bed and he gallops down the hallway into the bedroom. I ask if he's hungry and he runs to the kitchen.

Tallulah, well, she's a bit deranged, in a Streetcar Named Desire kind of Southern lady deranged, and she'll only come to you, to me, if I say, in a high-pitched voice, which isn't easy, even for a lifelong 'mo like myself, Morning Mommy.

I know!

But last night, I thought I'd heard it all.

Ozzo, our little shoebox mutt, had gotten into something and had a bug bit on his side. All day he was licking, scratching, and biting at the spot, and when Carlos got home, he decided to bathe the runt to cleanse him of his need for the aforementioned scratching and biting.

I thought, Good idea, and suggested a tea cup and eye dropper for bath time. He really is a small dog. I have shoes bigger.

I digress.

Carlos bathes Ozzo, and then lets him loose to run around the house. Then Carlos gets some kind of ointment to rub on the bite and gently massages it into Ozzo's fur.

And it happens.

Carlos says, sincerely, looking deeply into Ozzo's eyes, "Now, stop licking. You want this to get better, don't you? Okay, then, stop biting at it. Stop scratching it. Stop licking it. Are you listening to me, Ozzo. You need to stop doing that. If you want it to get better, you have to leave it alone."

All this was said to a dog that doesn't know what Sit means.

Oy!