Pharaoh King

For those who don’t know, a few months ago, we rescued two black cats. We named one Seven — a Seinfeld tribute — and one Thirteen — a tongue-in-cheek concession to the superstition of black cats being unlucky.

And, well, because Younger wanted to name them in numbers, because, you know, math.

“Mom,” Younger said the other day as he descended the stairs. “Both the cats were lying outside my door, like sphinxes, waiting for me. So either I’m the next Pharaoh king or they smell something in my room that I don’t.”

Well, as far as I know, I’m not an Egyptian princess and he’s not the next Pharaoh King, so . . .

But wait.

Maybe I am a princess . . .

Thoughts

What I think our animals think when I clean the house:

Dusty  (our border collie): She’s using the evil forces again. I shall remain in the bubble of safety surrounding the stairs. I will not even look upon evil, so that it might not catch me in a weak moment.

George  (our lab mix who spent five years in an animal shelter): She cannot hear me over the caterwauling of the blue machine, so I must follow her to let her know I am still in existence. And when she stops, I must halt, also, unknowingly behind her. I am not sure why she does that flip backwards over me. I think she must enjoy it, but now I, too, should find the safety of the stairs.

Seven and Thirteen (our two rescued black cats): What is this loud noise? I must see. Too close. Back up, back up. What is this pet that spews liquid onto the floor? I shall catch it as it moves, back and forth, back and forth. Leap. Now. Sticky paws. Sticky paws. High step, high step. What is she doing with the pile of clothes I have been napping upon? No, she must not have that washcloth. I must first render it un-living. I must, I must. Ah, okay. She can have the washcloth. But not the sock. Not this sock. It is mine. Mine, I say. Mine, mine, mine. Why is she fussing over the animal I brought for her? I did render it un-living. Why has she not sit down and cuddled me? I shall climb her like a tree. Ah, yes, claws work good. We’re going outside now? I shall find her another animal.