April 14, 2006
First Day of Vacation
Since his little running away stint, Tub has not left the house unless he was wearing his harness and leash. He does not like this arrangement--he is a cat, after all. Throughout the winter he was pretty okay about never leaving the house, but he informs us of his discontent very vocally now. It is not a meow--it is a wail, a great announcement that he needs to make at five in the morning: Now that spring has sprung, he is desperate for any opportunity to stick his nose outside and at least smell the fresh air. To appease him slightly, we keep the living room windows open just enough so that he can stand up next to them and rest his chin on the sill.

He was just doing this, standing on his back feet, intently watching Mo roll in the grass outside, when Greta noticed him. The living room is her room--he may have taken over every other room in the house, but he almost never sets foot in here. She leapt from the couch, growling, and ran to him, acting as though she were going to rip him in half but only putting her nose in his fur. When he did nothing (he has no time for her foolishness), she looked at me.

"Wup, he's just looking out the window. Here." I opened the other, the one right next to it. "Here, you can look out this one. See? Wup, come look out the window."

She nearly did (she's surprisingly good at taking uncommon dog commands) but then looked back at Tub and whined. Then she barked.

"Hey," I said. "Stop it. He can look out the window if he wants. It's not yours."

She barked at him once more and then bounded from the room in such a style that said Fine! I hate you! All you care about is that cat!

Which is, of course, nonsense, because all we ever talk about is the dog in this house. I called, "Oh, stop being a baby."

Thank God it's vacation.

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