Mid-day in the Garden of Dogs and Cats

Woke up in the ex-darling's bed this morning with two kittens romping beside me - oh - and no ex. Yikes. Don't misconstrue. The ex is on vacation along with parents and twin sibling and the ilicit sweetheart and I are members of the committee to babysit the pets and plantlife of the three vacant households.

The kitties are Kody and Kayla (oh how I yawn at such dreary pet names; I assure my next pet shall have no less than eight words to its name, each of no less than six syllables!) They're sisters of a litter and joined at the hip (figuratively) - forever playing, fighting, cuddling or grooming each other. They have separate snooze-baskets but you'll only ever find them mashed into one, wrapped up in a fuzzy bundle and looking for all the world like a wildly deformed two-headed cat.

I'm now in the back yard of the parents' place and feeling happy and peaceful. The weather is heavenly as is the afterglow from a delicious evening with the sweetheart.

With me is Buddy, the noble companion of the ex's twin. He's a wise old Lab of regal - though a bit tippy - stature.

Also here is Sasha, the outrageously rotund beagle; eater of McDonalds packaging. There's a McDonalds restaurant right next door. With that and the wind and the perpetual ignorance of their clientelle Sasha's work is never done. Though spelled S-a-s-h-a, her name is almost exclusively pronounced 'SashaSashaSashaSashaSasha!' and strictly in falsetto voice. I can't seem to bring myself to participate in this.

She's just launched into a frail barking at the sight of the empty driveway.

"Chill, beagle," I say, "There's no one there."

There's something different about beagles generally. I've heard many call beagles stupid. A very unfair pronouncement, I say. People, almost without exception, measure a dog's intelligence by their willingness to cooperate. A flawed way of thinking. The dog who obeys no rules and gets what she wants has achieved more freedom and success than the obedient slipper-fetcher. Which is really the more intelligent? This particular beagle has perhaps achieved too much success. She's become a belly-dragger with four nubbins for legs. She moves about like some kind of Isle-of-Moreau-ish penguin/centipede cross. Imagine that if you can.

So get a load of these shenanigans. The parents believe themselves to be vacationing only with the twin. The ex has departed covertly. They're planning the classic twin-switcheroo gag but on their own elderly parents, and on another continent to boot.

"Everyone's telling me not to do this," said the ex. "They say my mom will have a heart attack."

"I don't think your mom will have a heart attack," said I.

"Me niether."

"I think she'll have a mild shock in which she despairs the apparent loss of her sanity and then she'll recover and beat you half to death with the nearest stick."

FWG