Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Dr. Valthenstein in the Lu-BOR-u-tory With the Milk of Human Kindness

I have created a monster.

So sayeth The Pony. And so sayeth Hick. Though Hick did not sayeth it in so many words, just in snide little comments interspersed with my glowing tales of Juno's latest brilliant acts.

I might have mentioned once or twice how Juno greets me on the side porch every evening when we get home from school, and how we have an intense reunion, a two-legged/four-legged lovefest, where I hug her and whisper sweet nothings while she lays her head on my shoulder or upper chest, and gazes into my eyes with her almost-human amber orbs.

Last week, Juno, in mid-lovefest, GROWLED at Ann the simple-minded black german shepherd with the muddy brown eyes that signify nobody's home. Ann was merely shouldering her way in front of me for a pat, all the while whining in her anxious way, which seems to be a standard warning that the sky is falling. The Pony was just around the corner, unlocking the kitchen door. But he came back. "We tried to TELL you Juno is evil. You've created a monster!"

Well. I beg to differ. My sweet, sweet Juno? A monster? I think not. She just wanted me all to herself. There's not enough love to go around. And Ann is always stealing Juno's special house on the back porch mere feet from the kitchen door, where treats can be tossed directly inside to prevent sharing.

Since we moved the cat feeding roasting pan of kibble out of the garage and onto a shelf on the side porch, Juno has been discombobulated. She used to love running under the garage door and stealing a accidentally dragging her mouth across the cat kibble for an accidental bite before I had T-Hoe pulled in properly. Now she crouches down and scampers in, but looks puzzled and sheepish and goes back out to wait for me.

Well. I feel a little bit guilty. Juno is a black silky ball of energy. She burns a lot of calories. Unlike Ann, the matronly would-be bonbon eater. So after our lovefest, I have started reaching up into the cat roaster and giving Juno a handful of cat kibble. If I forget, Juno looks at me. Turns her head to the cat roaster shelf. Looks at me again. Walks to the shelf and puts her nose up against it. Looks back at me. Expectantly.

I think Juno may dream of cheating on me with the cat kibble.


  1. I think Juno is simply worried that the cat chow might get stale or moldy, so she is doing some quality control work.

    (After all, she's a giver.)

  2. I think Juno is worming her way into your heart, your home and displacing Hick in bed. By next winner you two will be sharing body heat.

  3. And the truth, ladies, gentlemen and kind dogs: a monster has been created.

  4. When they are not asleep, they are thinking about food.

  5. Ahhhhh, you are so smitten! Juno's sister, Toni Louise will growl a warning to the others when she is about the business of getting her affection for the day. The big difference between them is that He Who is her master. She is his favorite and will sit upon his chair as elegant as a queen.

  6. Juno is no fool, and she is named aptly as queen of the gods.

  7. If Juno starts purring you'd better cut back on the kibble.

  8. Sioux,
    That it! I knew there was a logical explanation. I can hardly wait to tell Hick how lucky we are to have Juno looking out for the cats and their tender digestive systems. That's my sweet, sweet Juno to a "T." She doesn't want that cat kibble for herself. She's a taster. In case somebody wants to off those fleabags for peeing in the garage.

    I must draw up a PROs and CONs list. Juno will not have a breather strapped across her muzzle. Juno will not have that funky leg that bends sideways at a 90-degree angle to carve my lower leg with a raptor talon. Juno will not release a gaseous emission, flap the quilt, and sigh contentedly.

    Maybe I don't need a list...

    I am working on unmonsterizing her. When she growls, I withhold affection (and cat kibble). She never snaps like the recently-deceased beagle, Tank. He even nipped a little boy.

    This evening Juno growled at Ann on the front porch as they both ran round and round through my legs like overgrown obese cats. I must confess that I spanked her. My sweet, sweet Juno. "NO! BAD!" I meant to swat her on the haunch, but she is so quick and agile that I caught her on the ribs as she twisted around. Juno knew she did wrong. She hunkered down and slunk a few feet away. I petted Ann. Juno came back and sat down at my feet. She learned that as a tiny puppy. That I would pick her up if she was still.

    When I went back inside, I heard Juno growl at Ann. Unmonsterizing isn't done in two days.

    Better thinking about food than about ripping out my throat. Sometimes I catch a look in that pie-headed tan tabby's eyes that makes me glad he's locked out.

    I can picture Toni Louise upon her He Who throne, looking down on her subjects.

    That is actually why my boys named her that. The Pony is a mythology buff.

    Oh! Wait! She's not growling! Juno is simply purring extra loud with her doggie vocal cords. The cat kibble is to blame. Thanks for finding the solution!