Einstein

Research has found that people who talk to pets are smarter than those who don't. Well, of course they are. My neighbors have yet to be convinced, I'm certain. This time of year, my windows are wide open. Conversations in which Maggie Rose and I engage are lengthy and detailed. And one sided, for the most part.

Rather than running to our bedroom at night, there are times Maggie will stand in the shadows, as if she knows I can't see her in the dark. I usually can make out her beard. The things I've said to her trying to coax her to the bedroom. I quietly remind myself windows are open, and just as quietly I walk over and pick up her tiny hiney. Last week I tried a new tactic, as she's been a little testy with George W lately. I'm in the bedroom, call her name, nothing. So, I say in my sweetest mama voice, "Aw George W, I love you, such a pretty kitty." Maggie went from zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds. She slid around the corner, through the door, looking for George. Ha!!! Little stinker, I caught her ignoring me. Now all I do is  act like I'm loving on kitty. 

Arriving home each evening, I can usually be heard saying in my best Joey Tribbiani voice, how YOU doin? 

This past week I tell her, kinda like one of The Three Bears, someone's been sitting in our chairs. I then morph to the Sixth Sense, I see butt prints. I know she wanted to tell me who had been sitting in our outdoor rockers, but there's the whole dogs don't talk thing. 

What's for dinner honey? Yeah, neighbors probably wonder if I snuck a hunk upstairs. Yeah, no.

If research is accurate, surely I'm an Einstein, 'cause there's a whole lotta talking to pets in our house.