Too timid to protest, the dog takes a few steps backward and then sits with a pitiful look on her face. I shoo the kitten off, not once but several times and finally have to add a spray of tap water to make my point. She retreats indignantly but not but a minute later is back, nonchalantly approaching the little dachshund and his dish. This doesn't go quite so well - nothing happens for a few seconds - then I hear a warning growl. It's very soft, very low and throaty, not menacing but not exactly frivolous either. The kitten looks up in astonishment then slowly backs away and the little dachshund gives me a quick glance as if he's expecting a reprimand. When none comes, he sits back down and resumes eating. The kitten sits several feet away, pretending to groom herself but I know a sulk when I see one and I'm not buying. She's a quick enough study about many things but she also has a short memory and a wicked stubborn streak. I have no doubt that this will happen all over again with the next meal.
Take a lesson from this, I tell myself thinking of the saying about insanity and expecting different results. Much as I know better, it's still something I struggle with. In hindsight, the lessons I learned as a child all seem negative and I often find myself wondering why there wasn't room for this single, useful and positive thought. Maybe I crowded it out. Alas, maybe I still sometimes do.
I'm not completely sure but I think as a learning ground, age whips youth's butt in the important stuff even if you're a kitten. I'd never take on a teen or twenty-something about technology but ask me about the dynamics of addiction and I'll clean your clock.
Do you know how to (insert any computer chore that he doesn't want to learn) Michael says to me.
No, I tell him, And I'm learned out.
That's what you think, he snaps back smartly.
I forget that Michael knows a sulk too.
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