I’ve noticed lately that any time I’m on the phone with the Sig Fig, we tend to have at least four conversations going on:
1. The conversation we’re actually having, which is usually pretty boring
2. The roommate talking, blissfully unaware that the Sig Fig is on the telephone (or, the reverse, Sig Fig trying to yell something at the roommate while she’s wearing headphones)
3. Me talking to the cats, which usually goes something like “OH MY GOD I HATE YOU ALL,” or variants like “YOU HAVE TO STOP DOING THAT. YOU ARE POINTY.”
4. Sig Fig talking to her dog, usually along the lines of “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
Now, I’m proud to say that owning pets has not turned me into one of those sickening people who talks baby-talk to animals, although I will admit to occasionally getting a little lovey, but that’s usually short-lived, due to the already established Pointy. The Sig Fig is likewise not a disgusting individual, one of the many reasons we’re together. But I’d say we’re both often guilty of the polar opposite: talking to our pets in logical, complete sentences, and trying to use reason to persuade them to behave in ways we’d prefer.
My roommates have gotten used to walking into the apartment assuming I must be on the phone with someone or perhaps entertaining guests, only to find that I’ve been having a very calm conversation with one of the cats. I like to remind the cats that they actually have a pretty consistent dinner time, and that I probably haven’t forgotten to feed them and oh my god what if I never feed them again. I occasionally ask them if they wouldn’t perhaps like to cover up their crap a little better. I frequently beg them to stop making so much noise at night.
And then there are the times when reason clearly won’t help, so I resort to just meowing at them. DO YOU SEE HOW ANNOYING THAT IS. HOW DO YOU LIKE IT.