I had the pleasure of taking care of Nala while Trolley and Wheaties were home for the long weekend. She greeted me with loud protestations, angry that her caretaker had left her alone in the house for two days so far. Alas, it was only me who had arrived, a stranger she hadn’t gotten comfortable with yet. She followed me around at first, and watched as I filled up her food and water dishes. After a while she realized that I was the only one coming. “Where is my slave?”, she demanded, and ran off to sleep under the kitchen table.
I tried to talk to her, to let her know that her company would be back in two more days. I asked if she was alright, if she was bored or sleepy or energetic.
It felt…a little odd…to be so verbose with a cat. I consider myself to be a sane person. At the same time, I realize that cats cannot answer back. A strange little paradox.
I find myself in the same situation around children. When a kid asks me a question to which the answer is beyond his comprehension, I don’t know what to say. I become rather embarrassed that I’ve been placed in such a situation. Do I tell this child the truth, or do I give a saccharine answer? Do I attempt to shed some consciousness on a child’s life, or do I let him/her remain in a blissful childhood ignorance?
Any decision can be thought of in a bad way. I never know what to say, so I generally don’t answer back.
I still talk to Dolores though.
For there can be no judgement there.