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Talking to the animals will do you lots of good

By GEORGI DAVIS
Published July 16, 2006

I have never trusted people who abuse animals. My opinion is that if someone can kick a dog or throw a cat for no good reason, they will probably do the same to their spouse or children.

I like animals and all those little creatures. I like to watch the way they go through their daily routine. I also like to talk to them.

My cat and I have many long conversations. We talk about what he saw from the screened-in porch while my husband and I were sleeping and he was carefully looking over the lawn and the pond. We talk about the weather and upcoming storms. I tell him about the articles I am going to write.

We also discuss current events. He listens quite intently. He likes it when I talk to him.

Sometimes he starts the conversation by jumping in through the window in the kitchen. He will give a quiet "meow" that sounds rather like, "Hello".

Then he will squeak a little and I know it is time to talk to him. I usually ask him what he would like to be if he weren't a cat. He has never given me an answer, but I think he pretty much likes his life as it is.

My husband sometimes wonders if the two of us are right in the head, but then again, it is best to keep him guessing.

I talk to the alligator in the pond. I converse with all the egrets and with "Big Blue," the heron who resides at our pond. I even talk to the squirrels on the golf course. I wave and tell them "hi" as we pass by in the golf cart.

Several weeks ago, we were playing our favorite course. I walked up to my ball and intensely studied my putt. Suddenly my husband said, "Get over here!"

I said, "Not now, I'm putting for a par!" He insisted that I move closer to him. I walked in his direction with daggers coming from my eyes. I asked him what was going on. He told me to look over at my ball.

Not 6 feet from it was a 9-foot alligator just sitting there waiting for me to putt. I was so intent on making the putt I hadn't seen him.

My husband said I would have to wait until he left. I told him to just tell the alligator to move. So, he did. The alligator slowly made his way to the next pond.

See, you really can talk to animals.

My daughter and her husband have two cats. He is not a true animal lover, but he tolerates them because my daughter, like me, loves her cats.

He is a neat freak and doesn't like the hair left behind by her favorite creatures. So she was surprised when she walked out of the garage one day to hear her husband talking to someone. She didn't see anyone, so she asked him if he was talking to himself.

He told her he was talking to his friend, the toad. He said that he was afraid the toad would get caught in the lawn mower he was about to use. So he picked up the toad and carefully put him in the flower bed.

"There", he said, "you will be safe now."

My estimation of my son-in-law increased immensely.

I must not be so strange, after all. Talking to the animals is good. They don't judge you and they love to listen to the sound of your voice.

The other day I decided to go on a bike ride, and I discovered one of those cute little lizards holding on to the basket of my bike. Even when I moved the bike and got on it, he continued to hang on for dear life.

I asked him if he would like to go for a ride. He clung on and made his chin blow up. So, for a ride we went, all around our community, up one street and down the other.

I talked to him about the yards and how some were beautiful and others needed work. We talked about how hot the sun was and how much fun it was to feel the breeze as we whizzed up and down the streets.

I told him to hang on tight when we went down the hill. At this he crept a little closer to my side of the bike basket. I named him Larry, which he seemed to like.

I asked him if he had any friends that might want to come along next time. He just stared at me with those cute little eyes of his. By the time we got back home, he was out of conversation, and so was I.

But that's okay, because friends don't have to talk incessantly with each other. Sometimes silence is golden.

What really fascinated me was that as we started our ride, he was black in color. He had part of his tail missing, which meant that he must have got it caught in something. We talked about that, too.

By the time we finished our short jaunt around the park, he was white with rust colored spots, just like the basket on my bike. What an amazing little creature.

I marveled at how adaptable he was. Too bad we humans can't adapt that well!

Maybe someday he will go for another ride with me, or maybe he will send a friend. I look forward to the next trip on my bike.

Thought for the day: It isn't who you talk to, it's what you have to say.

[Last modified July 15, 2006, 22:44:00]