By Jacob Bennett
My roommate’s cat is hunting my dog.
Daisy is always watching my little buddy, peeking around thehouse plant, or lurking in the shadows of the sofa, or staring from her perchon top of the bed. Once, in the middle of the night, she nudged open my door, saw that I was awake, and backed away. And the other morning, as I got readyfor work, I heard her sharpening her claws on a scratching post, like Carl readying his weapon near the climax of “Sling Blade.”
The truth about cats and dogs is they can’t be friends. I knew this. But Sophie and I were basically strays, until my roommate from the‘Burg and his common-law fiancée took us in. I thought our pets could forge an uneasy truce, like when Brisco County had to work with Bowler every week.
Nope.
And it’s not going to be a fair fight.
At 12 pounds, Daisy’s only a little lighter than my miniature schnauzer—five pounds less, to be exact. I know because my roommates just weighed her at my request, which I’m sure will only make her madder. Daisy is a rescue, adopted after she was discovered on the street, shivering in the snow, cold and hungry, but surviving.
Sophie is also a rescue—I found her online, stranded in abasket of puppies. I’d like to think buying her was akin to sponsoring a hungry Third World child.
Sophie probably started the rift the first day we were here,when she chased Daisy under the bed. She doesn’t know why she must feel like that—why she must chase the cat. But she never posed any real danger.
She’s just a goofy little terrier, bigger than a football,too big to fit in a purse, in accordance with man laws. Years of breeding and evolution have left her with no survival skills except relentless adorability. On a toughness scale from Clint Eastwood to Clay Aiken, she’s about a John Mayer.
She forgot all about the feud, once Daisy was out of sight.She went back to trotting obliviously through the house, thinking about bones or balls or biscuits.
Daisy didn’t forget.
The thing about cats is, they tolerate people, and they’ll eat food from people because it’s free. But they’re hunters, and their thirst for blood is so great, they play with their prey before eating it. Unlike dogs,which are just furry little street bums, cats like to kill.
Really, cats are just miniature lions.
And when a mini lion takes on a mini schnauzer, I know whereto place my bet.
I just watched a thing on National Geographic where seven lions ganged up and tried to kill an elephant. They just dug in and held on…
It was awesome.
But I wouldn’t wish it on my little snow pea.
Unfortunately, Sophie’s gonna end up like that elephant. The situation came to a head the other day, when her back was turned.
Daisy crept out from the shadows, padding across the carpet likea ghost in the darkness. When she was inches away, shrieked and pounced, Montecore-style. She didn’t stop flailing until my roommates pulled her offstage.
From then on, the food chain was back in the latch. Sophie feels the need to stand at a safe distance, in a doorway, when begging for food. Daisy marches through the house like General Sherman in Atlanta.
This story doesn’t have an ending, but like “Sling Blade,” it really only has one logical conclusion.
Daisy just keeps watching Sophie. Watching and waiting, hoping for that perfect moment when she can go in for the kill.
I think she also gave me a sinus infection on my birthday.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Unemployment's not cake; frogs aren't dinosaurs
By Jacob Bennett
If this gig in Louisville didn’t work out, the horizon would be as bleak as the surface of the moon.
I’d been cool hand Luke for the first couple of weeks since I’d lost my job, especially since I got three interviews right away.But now it had been a month. I was feeling fragile as a glass menagerie, and this was the last gentleman caller unafraid of my pleurisy.
If they didn’t want me, I would have to give back my house and move in with my parents and die homeless and penniless and 20 pounds overweight, and no one would ever love me.
For a life so full of new possibility, I was out of possibilities. I was fighting with 11 million unemployed people for what little was left.
It’s a helpless feeling when nobody needs the part you make, or wants the food you bake. The mailman still brings the bills. I learned to cut costs: layer up, thermostat down. Cable off. Don’t eat out unless it’s on a co-worker with survivor’s guilt. There's always more shampoo in the bottle.
I needed my savings to buy time. I always say, when life hands you lemons, change everything about yourself.So I turned down one job because the drive was too much and the pay was too little. Much to my parents’ chagrin, I probably would have rejected another job that paid decent but wasn’t what I wanted to do. I never had to make that choice, because that offer never came.
I wanted to work in Hawaii or Nashville or one place in Indy, just because they asked for my favorite movie quote (I ended my cover letter with "good talk, son," but almost went with "Nice try, Lao Che").
But even before my old job relieved me of my post, Kentucky beckoned. And since the Playboy Mansion wasn’t looking for a pool boy, this last prospect in Louisville was the kind of thing I wanted to try. After two interviews and a personality test and some ACT-type questions, I didn’t want to leave without a job.
I also wanted the answer to this question:
Frog: dinosaur :: whale : ___
a. mouse
b. fish
c. bird
d. snake
I think I put fish, but I can’t defend the answer. I googled it just now, and nobody else knows either. But I digress.
Another lesson came the day they said they’d make their decision: staring at the phone doesn’t make it ring any faster.
But it can be worth the wait.I’m back on a payroll, before the Indiana Department of Workforce Development could process my first claim. Thanks for the help, guys.
Not that I’m complaining. Every day I take the Gene Snyder Freeway or Preston Highway or Breckenridge Lane or one of those roads I used take back in the day on trips to Louisville, always on the way to something awesome.
First, I had to drive back to Indiana to knot some loose ends. As I traveled the highway through downtown Louisville, the river was murky and the sky was gray. But that one tall building and that other tall building and that one hotel were all lit up in the night, just like this side of the moon.
Maybe the answer is mouse.
If this gig in Louisville didn’t work out, the horizon would be as bleak as the surface of the moon.
I’d been cool hand Luke for the first couple of weeks since I’d lost my job, especially since I got three interviews right away.But now it had been a month. I was feeling fragile as a glass menagerie, and this was the last gentleman caller unafraid of my pleurisy.
If they didn’t want me, I would have to give back my house and move in with my parents and die homeless and penniless and 20 pounds overweight, and no one would ever love me.
For a life so full of new possibility, I was out of possibilities. I was fighting with 11 million unemployed people for what little was left.
It’s a helpless feeling when nobody needs the part you make, or wants the food you bake. The mailman still brings the bills. I learned to cut costs: layer up, thermostat down. Cable off. Don’t eat out unless it’s on a co-worker with survivor’s guilt. There's always more shampoo in the bottle.
I needed my savings to buy time. I always say, when life hands you lemons, change everything about yourself.So I turned down one job because the drive was too much and the pay was too little. Much to my parents’ chagrin, I probably would have rejected another job that paid decent but wasn’t what I wanted to do. I never had to make that choice, because that offer never came.
I wanted to work in Hawaii or Nashville or one place in Indy, just because they asked for my favorite movie quote (I ended my cover letter with "good talk, son," but almost went with "Nice try, Lao Che").
But even before my old job relieved me of my post, Kentucky beckoned. And since the Playboy Mansion wasn’t looking for a pool boy, this last prospect in Louisville was the kind of thing I wanted to try. After two interviews and a personality test and some ACT-type questions, I didn’t want to leave without a job.
I also wanted the answer to this question:
Frog: dinosaur :: whale : ___
a. mouse
b. fish
c. bird
d. snake
I think I put fish, but I can’t defend the answer. I googled it just now, and nobody else knows either. But I digress.
Another lesson came the day they said they’d make their decision: staring at the phone doesn’t make it ring any faster.
But it can be worth the wait.I’m back on a payroll, before the Indiana Department of Workforce Development could process my first claim. Thanks for the help, guys.
Not that I’m complaining. Every day I take the Gene Snyder Freeway or Preston Highway or Breckenridge Lane or one of those roads I used take back in the day on trips to Louisville, always on the way to something awesome.
First, I had to drive back to Indiana to knot some loose ends. As I traveled the highway through downtown Louisville, the river was murky and the sky was gray. But that one tall building and that other tall building and that one hotel were all lit up in the night, just like this side of the moon.
Maybe the answer is mouse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
