I tend to get pretty ranty on here. I like to think of it as a beautiful coping mechanism. It's a fair assumption that the various topics I want to rant about, the people around me have absolutely no interest in. Or they're sick of hearing me bitch. So I spew my unsolicited opinions all over the interwebs like some kind of mentos and diet cola fountain of ideas, and when I'm all used up I can rejoin society as a calm, silent individual.
When I was a kid, my mum used to bemoan the fact that I didn't stop talking. I vaguely remember this, listening to myself expound about... whatever. Like my brain was moving too fast for my mouth to keep up, so it inevitably turned into this unpunctuated string of consciousness that resembled the low din of channel 3 at 4am.
This still happens, but with the wisdom of age (harhar) I have learnt to focus the impulse to talk uncontrollably. Towards my animals. I have four.
Pi, our first siamese cat, who is shy of 8lbs, burbles constantly in this trilling little mew, and is a complete spazz head. She's your brain on weed, if your brain was approximately 3 ounces and you were covered in furr. Pi bears the brunt of my string of consciousness due to her burbling creating the illusion that she actually cares about what I'm saying rather than the reality. I'm fairly certain in her world I'm simply the large thing that makes noise and feeds her, that she must valiantly defend from the ever-present threat of attack by Q-Tip. For if the Q-Tips win, she would lose her large food-providing-entity. And she has proven again and again to be the worst hunter, completely incapable of fending for herself. She catches a bug, looks puzzled at herself, and then lets it go to see what would happen. Unless the object of her attack is a stationary Q-Tip, she's doomed.
Fatty is our other siamese, about twice the size of Pi and appropriate named not for his size, but for his attitude. Fatty thinks fat. Movement has specific purpose, usually food or warmth. Anything else is wasted energy. Everything encountered must be licked repeatedly to test for consumability. After licking, further tests in the form of fatty-chomps must be applied. Fatty chomps are slow, so as not to scare the potential prey, and pressure is applied delicately, just in case the object of chomping disagrees.
The object of chomping tends to be Sunny, my wonderfully patient chocolate lab/chow/something. Sunny is special. Special in the slow brain way, yes, but also due to the fact that I rescued her directly from a fucking awful situation. Like raising a foster kid, she came to me utterly broken, unable to handle even moderately loud noises, doors, wood floors, other dogs, scolding, or men with facial hair and baseball caps. She's a bit of a spazz head, able to grasp basic training but any command not practice and reinforced several dozen times illicits confusion, wags, and the inevitable decent onto her back, paws in the air, giving herself over to confusion and belly rubs. Hers was a long, long road, but she has become this fabulous companion, wonderfully patient in the face of long self ruminating conversation, Pi licks, Fatty chomps, and being used as an occasional pillow.
Her patience has most recently extended to Max, our most recent addition, another rescue. Rottie/lab/something, I would not have chosen Max as his name, but since that's what he's used to we figured it best not to mess with his reality too much. Max is what happens when my impulsive partner falls in love with a poor abandoned animals that is has a jaw strong enough to snap bone. To be fair, he's a suck-ball. He seems overwhelmed that he's no longer in a kennel, to the point that addressing him in any manner illicits a sugar high on meth reaction. Suffice it to say, my comments to him so far are in the form of commands, sparse praise, or out of the side of my mouth. I've found that if I don't look directly at him while discussing his various personality traits, his small dog brain can't comprehend that it's him I'm talking about/to and he blissfully ignores me and goes on licking himself. Sunny figured out this trick long ago and fixes me with an underhanded stare whenever I try it on her. I'm curious how long it'll take Max to catch on.
