A Glossary of Terms

It's funny how words take on new meanings in a household.  Here's some examples of words that have permutated in ours...

Petromalt:  To most people, this is a brand of goo that you can feed your cat to help treat hairballs.  In our household, it is a fine delicacy - Bit goes bonkers over it.  She reminds us at least once a day that she would like some now, okay fine thanks.  She really only gets it twice a week, but all we have to do is open the drawer that we keep it in and we'll hear her running to us, from wherever she is in the house.

Sock Box:  I'm going to go out on a limb and admit something here:  I detest matching and folding socks.  I hate it so much that I don't even attempt it anymore - we have two "sock boxes," one for whites, one for dress socks, and I just throw the clean ones in the boxes.  These are highly prized as kitty beds, and it is not uncommon to see Charlotte asleep on top of the white socks.  Sometimes we even have to move her to get to the socks that we want to wear that day.

Narnia:  And you thought that Narnia was just a kids' story.  Actually, Narnia is our basement.  It's totally not animal safe, with all of the old chemicals that former owners left behind, and has a gigantic open crawl space that I do NOT want the cats getting into.  Since the basement is forbidden, it has taken on a special mythical glamor for them.  The times that they do get down there, their eyes are wide and they're looking around in stunned amazement.  Narnia.

Squirrels:  Small, sadistic creatures that rule the back yard.  They do acrobatics outside the windows, sometimes even landing on the outside window sills (on the second story, even!) just to torment the cats.  They also ate my jack-o-lantern, the little jerks.

"No Kitty":  This is how we decided to train Argos to leave the cats alone, since sighthounds are instinctually wired to chase.  He is so eager to please that what that translates into is that if we say "No Kitty" or sometimes if he even sees a cat, he will practically break his neck or turn his entire body around to show us that he isn't even looking at the cat.  Good boy.

Big Scary Monster (TM):  This is how Bit still views Argos.  Despite the fact that he's never shown her much interest.  He's more interested in Annie, probably because she is the one that interacts with him the most often.  (And by interact, I don't mean snuggle.)

Interact:  This generally means that one of the animals is trying to cow one of the other animals into submission - they are interacting with one another.  Charlotte smacks Annie, Annie chases Bit, Annie slaps Argos in the nose, Bit attacks Charlotte's tail.  It's neverending.

Play Time:  The cats go "live" around 10:30 or 11:00 PM, which coincidentally is when we're trying to get to sleep.  It's kind of hard to sleep when you hear three sets of thundering paws running and leaping and slamming into things all over the house.  Even Argos, tucked safely into his bed in his crate, sighs about this.


Mr. Gator:   Poor Mr. Gator.  He was once a bright green alligator, but has become Argos' most favored chew toy.  He is now completely encrusted in dog slobber, and his once-proud 16 squeakers are down to two.  Don't tell Mr. Gator, but his replacement is currently being housed in our front closet, for the day when Argos finally destroys him.

Little Red Dot:  Little Red Dot frequently comes out to play with the cats.  It's actually from a laser pointer, but I'm convinced that at least one of the cats thinks that the red dot lives under the radiator.

Ladies:  These are innocent women that walk around our neighborhood, that are the objects of Argos' fascinated attention.  He loves women a LOT.  I think it's because women tend to make a bigger fuss over him when we're out walking.  He soaks up the attention as if we NEVER shower him with affection and praise. I have gotten somewhat good at judging whether individual women are actually afraid of large dogs (or just don't care to interact with him) and have to actively restrain him from bounding up to them like they're long-lost friends.

Afternoon Snack:  This is, sadly, my Boston fern, at least as far as Annie is concerned.  She literally grazes from this plant.  You can yell at her all you want, she may well come back five minutes later if she's really intent on getting her greens.