All is not well this week at Caturday headquarters. An impostor is among us:
Though Waldo is doing everything in his doggy power to fit in here with a raging cat lady and her two (starter) cats, I know at least two of us are not fooled:
Ralph and Weaz are spending their days as high up as they can get so they can keep an eye on the dragon below.
I don’t know why they think he’s a dragon. And to explain how I know it’s clearly me saying it but that it’s in the voices, language and personalities (completely separate from my own) that I created for them would lead far too many to conclude that I suffer not only from catladyosis, but from dissociative identity disorder, as well. I know I’m not the only one who has a voice for my pets, but I am probably the only one who speaks in it 90% of the time and makes it damn convincing. We had an exchange this week that went something like this:
Stew (to Ralph): Hey Ralph, how was your day?
Me (as Ralph): Ohhh you know.
Stew: [Affirmative nod]
Stew: Sometimes when you answer as Ralph, I really think it’s Ralph.
It is, fool! [I also made this video that won't convince ANYONE I'm sane... Cats in Snow]
I’ve been impressed with the cats’ reaction to Waldo so far. They’re by no means cordial hostesses, but they haven’t been overly aggressive or overly timid. Weaz is VERY intrigued by the new dragon in the house, but not enough to really get close to him. She likes to sit about three feet away and stare a hole through his soul. Ralph just keeps her distance.
Both have gotten outrageously clingy whenever I come around.
But mostly they’ve just been sleeping it out… kind of like waiting it out but with sleeping instead of waiting.
When we wake up, he’ll be gone.
Except maybe he won’t. Because we totally love him. Waldo truly breaks my heart and is as strong a case as I’ve ever seen against euthanizing shelter animals. I teared up tonight just looking at him.
This poor, sweet creature has had a terrible life. His face, throat, chest and legs are covered in scars. His big, dangly Basset-esque ears are jagged at the ends from being hacked (or bitten?) off. He can barely see, barely hear and walks with a limp. He’s horrendously overweight and his teeth are rotted away. And whoever treated him so poorly decided to put him through it for a miserable 10 years before abandoning him at a shelter where he would obviously be killed.
The world has not been kind to old Waldo, and yet… His tail still wags. His eyes still shine. And he is as trusting of and loyal to two strangers who met him 48 hours ago as he probably would be to the dickwad that abused him for so long. That’s probably the saddest thing to me: That despite a life of mistreatment, Waldo still has faith in humans at all.
He doesn’t owe anyone that kind of enduring loyalty, and yet, he has held on to some shred of hope that someone will return the favor one of these days.