This one time I thought I was an animal whisperer. I believed if I was patient enough and spoke in the animals language I could pretty much get the animals to do whatever I wanted.
I predicted my cats impending labor.
I consoled my dog when he was clearly too frightened to climb the stairs to the front yard with my cat sitting at the top step daring him to come closer.
I sat on the front porch with my finger out and whistled to the birds, waiting for them to come down and land on my finger like they might land on a twig. Waiting…waiting…whistling…waiting.
Damn birds were stubborn.
And then I grew up.
Somewhere along the way I lost my ability to communicate with animals, but if I could channel my inner animal whisperer I would ask her to please communicate to my dog that I’d like him to stop climbing onto the dinner table and slobbering all over my food.
It’s really disgusting…and no matter how much of it I wipe clean with my napkin, it still smells an awful lot like dog drool when I finish it.