My surrogate mother reads to me, which I basically think is a dumb
idea. It gives a whole new meaning to the concept of boring. I'm
supposed to sit there quietly while she drones on and on. But, I must
admit, that fox knew what he was talking about. That wily old fox went
on to say:
"If you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I
shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all others.
Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will
call me like music, out of my burrow." That's how I feel when I hear my
surrogate mother come home. I know how he felt when he said "Please
tame me" and I've given a lot of thought to what responsibilities a
human must be willing to assume if he is to me my special friend.
If the answer is NO to any of the above questions, don't even think
about claiming me as a pet. I am prepared to survive in the wild until
you tame me. After taming, I lose that ability. I cannot go home again.
Now, my parents have answered YES to all the above, but at some cost,
emotional and financial, to them.
Take number 1, for example. With the help of a flabbergasted lawyer,
they arranged in their will for me and any other pets to live out our
lives in our own house with a live-in housekeeper. I think that's the
least they could do! The very thought of being without them is
terrifying.
Number 2, vacations, are a sore point with me. My parents are
frequent flyers. They're always skittering off to hither and yon. They
leave me in the care of the housekeeper. She's here five days a week
anyway, so it's no big deal for her to be here on the weekends, too.
The upside of this arrangement is that my routines remain pretty much
intact (except I get depressed without my parents' attentions). That
crafty old fox in "The Little Prince" said, "one must observer the
proper rites...It would have been better to come back at the same
hour.."; and he's right. If my routines are disturbed I become upset,
then I get revenge. The downside of this arrangement is I don't like
the housekeeper much.
Speaking of revenge brings me to number 3. Your most prized possessions
are my prime targets. Every time you tell me "no" when I'm examining
something, I add it to my list for future use. My basic philosophy is
the same as the Mikado's, to "let the punishment fit the crime." Every
time you irritate me, I'm going to get even. If you're late coming
home, that plant you've nurtured for 15 years is a goner. And so it goes.
Remember, I have no remorse nor guilt. I'm not a dog, after all.
I'm not the only one responsible for the carpenter and the upholsterer
being
on standby. The cats are worse than I am. However, I've been known,
when angry, to chew up a door molding and to rip up antique upholstered
chairs. I hardly see this as a big deal. My parents have the carpenter
keep extra pieces of molding on hand and he installs them as necessary.
Of course, they had to be made to order in the lumber yard with a
special die, but that's not my problem. Whenever the furniture is
completely re-upholstered, twice as much fabric as needed is ordered.
That way, the following year, the upholsterer only needs to fix the part
of the furniture that's been savaged. It's cheaper, by far, than
re-doing the entire piece again. Mattresses on beds are simply replaced
annually.
In my opinion, visitors are a pain in the derrière. Yes, I'm anxious to
meet someone new, but they never live up to my expectations. For
instance, the first thing I always do is climb on their laps to pin them
down. Then I go through their pockets. Whatever is theirs is mine
now. Occasionally, one of them tries to reclaim his previously owned
object. Is it any wonder that I object? If he didn't want me to have
it, he shouldn't have brought it into the house. The scenario goes
something like this: He lunges for the object. I growl and snap at his
hand. He tries to push me off his lap. I hang on with 2 feet, 2 hands
and 40 teeth. the visitor is, by now, showing signs of extreme fear.
This makes me nervous because I can't see what there is to be
afraid of,
so I get a bit aggressive - at this point, old ma usually intervenes by
offering me a bribe of a quarter of an avocado to release the visitor.
I never give in for less than half. See what I mean about visitors being
a pain in the ass?
My parents are conservative souls. They invited their insurance agent
over one night to review their liability over raccoon bites. After some
hemming and hawing, they were able to get said coverage. You'd think I
was vicious when, in truth, I'm just misunderstood.
Don't give me any effluent about quality time. If you tame me, then I
need to interact with you every day. Some days I might only want a few
minutes of your time. Another day I might need to spend the entire day
with you. Don't tell me you're too busy and don't have time for me. If
you do, I won't be your friend anymore. I'll simply be a wild animal
caged in a house. As the fox said, "Men have no time to understand
anything. They buy things already made in shops. But there is no shop
anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends
anymore. If you want a friend, tame me. One only understands the
things that one tames."
"You become responsible forever, for what you have tamed", said the fox
in chapter 21 of The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
Ask yourself these questions:
If the answer is YES to all of the above, then you are ready to tame me
which means, according to the fox, "to establish ties..if you tame me,
then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the
world."
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