ACT 2, SCENE 1, Friday: Enter a blankety-blank, @!%#@%#&, stupid, mongrel d-o-g. Expletives that cannot be published in this newspaper and editorial comment supplied by co-author, Ms Kalico Kitty who refuses even to utter the word “dog.” “Furthermore,” she predicted, “No good will come of this. Why ever would my mistress and master permit such a misbegotten lummox to contaminate our residence?” It would do no good trying to explain that in actuality Lily is a very smart, obedient, loving, and pretty animal.
Kitty has the appearance of a cat of ancient Egypt with a narrow, triangular face dominated by huge, golden eyes. She’s a terrible snob. After all, the ancient Egyptians worshiped cats, even mummified some of them. Her vocabulary ranges from that of the gutter to a Victorian lady’s genteel speech. Bill thinks that he has discovered her secret, third name that, according to T. S. Eliot, all cats have. It is “Princess.” I think that perhaps it’s “Cleopatra” or “Nefertiti.”
The week when Vicki and Lily visited was great fun, but we were concerned about keeping Kalie from being snatched by Lily. Lily, like most Labs, is gentle and obedient. However, she loves to chase rabbits and squirrels. Not to worry! Kalie is quick as a whippet and can outrun Lily. She divided her time between the office and our bedroom, streaking down the hall from one room to another at a tremendous rate.
We kept her food in the office so that Lily wouldn’t eat it. Unlike cats, dogs gobble everything up. I saw a picture in Life magazine of a small dog that had stolen half a ham from the table and eaten till its belly looked as if it would pop. Lily eats anything in sight. She religiously investigates the kitchen floor for stray crumbs. She loves fresh apples, pears from Vicki’s yard and — would you believe — persimmons. Lettuce is a favorite treat.
I formed the bad habit of giving her little nibbles when I was in the kitchen. The only thing that I’ve seen her refuse was a piece of carrot peel. No human actor could have better portrayed her emotions. She spat it out, and the look on her expressive face ranged from shock at being given such a nasty thing to sorrow that I would have treated her like that.
Tom and Vicki arrived with Lily while Tony and his dog were here. Lily promptly started to eat Kana’s food. Kana’s half the size of Lily, but literally shrieked at the top of her lungs, leaped on Lily, snapping and snarling and bit Tony when he separated them.
When Lily chased Kalie under our bed we reminisced about a story that has become part of Lily-dog’s history. We don’t want animals on the furniture — especially our living room couch. One day I was alone with Lily and happened to glance into the living room. Ahhh . . . There she was, luxuriously stretched out full length on the couch, sound asleep.
“Get off that couch!” I thundered. She ran through the house, down the hall to our bedroom with me right behind her, loudly clapping my hands and yelling that summa of a human’s wrath at an animal, “What did you do? What did you do?” She ended up lying next to the bed with her head stuck under it. She’s a big dog, and that was as far as she could get. When Vicki and Tom came back I said, “I must inform you that I’ve had to give Lilly claps.” “What?” asked puzzled Tom. I explained. I haven’t seen Lily near the couch since!
Kitty has calmed down after her initial terror, and Lily is no longer as excited. Kalie can no longer resist her curiosity about Lily and comes into the family room. It’s a sort of pas de deux of advance, retreat. wclarke@comcast.net
