When we lived in Miami, I created a special whistle for our outside cats so they would come when dinner was ready. Over the years, as those cats left us, and our cats have all been indoor cats, that special whistle is one I now use on Carlos—and, to be fair, he uses it on me, too.
I use it in stores when he wanders off, so that he can find me; I use it at home when I’m too lazy to go to him with a question or comment.
Like the other day, while on the computer, and I came across a high-larious cat-and-dog video and wanted to show him; so, I puckered up and blew … he didn’t come right away. So, I did it again, and kept doing it until he appeared at the office door, snarling:
“No need to the whistle. I am not the dog, you know.”
I replied:
I won that round.
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